


Blank Space

by littlelady1121



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Returns, Depression, Domestic Avengers, Marvel family, Post Avengers, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, SHIELD, SHIELD is in Stark Tower, Science Bros, Stark Tower, Thor likes food, Torture, bucky and original female character, bucky is an avenger, feels lots and lots of feels, what could possibly go wrong
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:09:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 33,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3663360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelady1121/pseuds/littlelady1121
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky rescues a Hyrda experiment, and both begin the process of healing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Firelight

He glanced quickly behind, the dim hallway empty as the building shook again from another explosion, a fissure splintering across the floor and up a wall, plaster and a light fixture fell from the ceiling. Doors swung on their hinges, rattling with the quivering building as it began to collapse on itself. More smoke leaked from somewhere, and Barton paused beside him.

“Do we have time to make it to the roof?”

Two quick succession explosions shook them, and his feet went wide for balance. Dust puffed from the floor around them, the building letting out its death gasp. His googles kept the smoke from his eyes, but the sensors in his arm alerted him to the rapidly rising temperature. Barton coughed into his hand, squinting into the darkness. The buzz of florescent lamp filled the silence, a light flickered, on, off, on, off.

“We don’t have a choice.” was his gruff reply, and snatching the front of the archer’s vest, he half dragged him down the hall, making for the access stairway. Upon entering the facility exactly two hours and forty three minutes ago, he mentally mapped the area he was in with Barton, preparing at least three exit routes to the roof for emergency pick-up as well two other upper level exits through windows leading into spacious courtyards. The stairway at the end of this hallway went directly to the roof, where they had - now - six minutes to reach the top and alert a helicopter before the building gave out from underneath them.

“Buck, get to the roof. We have a chopper waiting for you.” Steve’s harried voice sounded his ear, and although he knew a response was desired, Bucky didn’t quite see the need to give one.

A light exploded in a shower of hot sparks, flaring white in the smoke up behind them. Bucky kicked in the door, still grasping a wheezing Barton, and threw him into the crumbling hallway. The thick billows of coiling black smoke told him of the explosive fires below. The stench of burnt chemicals mixed with the smell of human flesh. Bucky dreaded the report he was going to make upon return to base. He hated mission briefs. They always wanted details. It was never enough to just say they were dead.

Five floors below them. Eighteen cells. Eighteen dead bodies. That wasn’t counting the numerous...medical chambers they discovered on the floors between them. The gurneys. The needles. The strapped down chairs. More bodies.

Fucking Hydra.

He dreaded informing Steve they failed. Again.

Barton stumbled, coughing dryly, trembling arm barely holding himself into a kneeling position on the concrete stairs. He looked up, his eyes rolling back into his head, lips cracked from the hot air he dragged into his lungs. Bucky used his flesh hand to smack Barton’s cheek, “Not now, Barton.” he gritted.

The archer barely registered, but gave a weak nod. With his metal arm, he grabbed Barton by the forearm, ignoring the man’s wince of pain, and hauled him onto his feet, before leaning over to throw the muscled man over his shoulder. They didn’t have time.

Thick smoke filled the corners, obscured his vision as he aimed his rifle up, finding the ledge of the stair with the toe of his boot. A door slammed somewhere behind him, and Bucky barely risked a glance beyond open doorway, the dented door propped sadly open. The smoke was one giant snake now, linked together as it drifted in from all sides.

He marched up the stairs with purpose, metal arm wrapped around Barton’s waist, keeping the man in place. His limp body didn’t resist Bucky, and bounced uncomfortably against his face, the wire of his bow cutting into his neck. Another explosion sent Bucky onto his knees, and debris falling from above him, crashing into the stairs, and pulled a railing from its settings.

Bucky lurched to his feet, off balanced, and picked up his pace. There was a hole where a corner should have been, the smoke escaping into the night air beyond them. Brilliant beams of search lights broke through the black, and Bucky charged through.

He shot off the handle, and kicked the door down, and stepped casually into the crisp night air. He could hear it crackle around him, faint under the deafening whirl of the helicopter blades.

“Sergeant!”Natasha’s voice whipped through the air as she leaned out the side of a SHIELD helicopter, her fiery air floating around her angular face. She leaned back to scream at the pilot, and he watched it begin to descend closer to him. Barton grumbled something about the indignity of it all, and Bucky held onto the smirk until they were all safely away from his godforsaken hellhole of a Hydra compound.

The chopper wouldn’t land, but Bucky ducked, running in a crouch until he threw his gun up to Black Window, who deftly caught the smooth black firearm to only throw it behind her. The fierce wind of the helicopter blades buffeted his exposed forehead, his own hair coming loose from the bun he kept it in, and pushed against his muscled body.

He shifted Barton off his shoulder, before hoisting him up towards Natasha. The following boom of the lower floors exploding outward into the night made him loose his footing once again, and the pilot veered the helicopter to the side. Barton’s legs dangled from the open doorway as Natasha held his upper body tightly to her own.

“The rope ladder!” Natasha’s eyes locked with his as she desperately pulled her partner further into safety. He nodded, and still crouching, following the behind.

Puffs of smoke and licks of flame illuminated the wildly panicked compound as sirens wailed on and on into the uncaring night. Exploding glass and crumbling buildings drowned the commands or screams of the dying Hydra loyalists they discovered here. The monotonous whoosh of the helicopter blades kept him on target as he ran towards the trembling edge of the building.

Although it was not far above him, he looped his arms through the rope ladder before the helicopter was well and above air born from the building.

“WAIT!” the screech pierced through the smoky night air, and his head whipped around.

She was small, and he wasn’t sure why _that_ of all things was his first thought.

Barely dressed, he saw the angry red welts of second degree burns flash across her skin as she ran barefoot across the roof, hair in her face, tracks of tears cutting through the smudges of her cheeks and lips.

“Please! Please!” her voice was sharp and wilting as she begged, stumbling after them. “Please don’t leave me here!” she cried, holding out her hand to him.

Her wild hair was dark and long, escaping from the braid that thumped along her back. “Please!”

Without thought, Bucky released his metal arm from the ladder and held it out to her, and she took the cue. He swayed as the chopper began to fly higher, rocked by wind and flight. He saw her take a breath, but never hesitate as her foot slammed down on the curb of the building, before propelling herself towards him.

She rammed into his body like a slab of concrete, the air stolen from his lungs in a heavy gasp. Her arms instinctively looped around his neck, and his metal arm came around her waist, crushing hers to his, holding onto her. He looked up at Natasha, whose emotionless face betrayed her shock as she glared down at him and the woman he held on to. He felt her shaking, hot tears sliding down his neck and sleek metal arm, body shaking against his as her sobs were hidden by helicopter blades whirling in the night.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more details!

Fury leaned back in his large leather office chair, fingers clasped together, elbows resting easily on the arms of the chair, the New York skyline lit up brilliantly behind him. The mid afternoon sun harshly glinted off tinted office windows, but this far up, the noise of cars, taxis, and subways was a mere distant hum.

“Now, tell me who she is.”

This was no polite question. It was Romanov who stood and began pulling up pictures and files on the large glass screen behind where Captain Rogers, Sargarent Barnes, and Maria Hill sat, three days after the disasterous results of the attempted infiltration.

“Her name is Oriana Catherine Rossi, born November 21, 1990, at Westchester Medical with a rare birth defect called a dyphramic hyrnea, and was one of the first initial disappearances seven months ago. She was presumed dead one month later when three of her teeth were discovered in a burnt car in Southern California. She disappeared from Portland, Maine, last seen at one of the cover agencies posing as a clinical trial facility.”

A picture of plain woman with thick brown hair pulled away from a round face and soft chin came to the front of the screen. Hard brown eyes stared back from the unflattering picture.

“She _was_ four feet eleven on this chart, about one hundred ten pounds.”

“Now?” Rogers’ eyebrows came low over his gentle eyes as he looked at the pictures and written information popping up on the screen. Natasha moved a few more pictures into view. She liked dresses, busty, hair always pulled away from her face. She smiled easily, in all of her pictures. She posed with friends.

“Now, she is five foot four weighing in at one twenty, but the doctors believe this is only due to malnutrition and the high stress environment she arrived from.”

“This is all well and good. She had a late growth spurt. Is she dangerous?” Fury snapped, ignoring the collage of pictures Rogers was flipping through. Barnes sat stoic, silent, and still as always, not a flicker crossing his passive features.

“We cannot be certain.” Romanov replied, tapping an icon with one perfectly manicured finger, and suddenly the Hydra sigil embossed itself across the screen, angry and red. Barnes blinked slowly, his finger shifted on the arm of the chair. Rogers tensed, and an eerie silence descended. “Not until she awakens from the medically induced coma that Doctor McArthur is keeping her in. She has extensive wounds.”

She turned around, face illuminated by the glow of the massive screen. She raised a sleek eyebrow at Rogers, who glanced nervously at Bucky. He had remained even more unusually quiet and reserved since returning from this mission, mystery woman in tow. Hair hid his face, stumble darkened his jaw.

“This is her file.” Romanov continued, ignoring the obvious awkward tension that filtered across her audience.

“Open it.” Fury commanded. Medical results, reports, pictures flooded the screen. They saw her aptitude tests, before and after pictures documenting her biceps, forearms, abdomen, calves, and thighs. Photographs of hand written notes documented her strength, her flexibility, agility, dexterity, speed, intelligence exams.

“From these notes, compared to others recovered from the Fairfield Facility, she surpasses any other individual in the areas of strength, agility, healing capabilities, flexibility.” Her eyes pinned Steve to the chair, “She is, most likely, as strong as Steve, with the honed dexterity of Barnes.”

“And how long was she with Hydra?”

“Seven months.” Bucky murmured quietly, his finger tapped the chair again. Before Fury could respond, he pointed to a video in the corner, “Play that.”

“Why?” Steve asked, peering at the still screen.

“Because all of her results are marked as failed. In several languages.” Natasha explained, pointing at the reports visible on the screen, and then at the line of Russian script underneath the video.

“Failed? She’s obviously been injected with a working and stable super serum. There is a physical change. Isn’t that what Hydra wants?” Maria interjected, looking down at the tablet in her hand, flipping through charts and reports, "her physical results are astounding." 

“Play the video,” Bucky ordered again. Natasha sighed, and pressed the image. It immediately jumped, and dominated the screen.

The woman in question -Oriana - stood in the middle of a pit, dressed in bike shorts and a sports bra, her hair shaven off. Her shoulders were tense, thin muscles bulging along her arms, the vein in her neck straining. A lithe man came into view, dressed similarly, eyes sharp in focus, watching her. Soft German muttering came over the speakers, and Bucky’s brows lowered drastically over his eyes, his expression darkening.

She circled him, remaining out of reach, chin dipped low. They moved carefully, each step measured and precise.

He attacked first.

She gracefully moved away, and landed an elbow to his lower back. She spun quickly on her heel, and swept a leg beneath him, flinging his legs out from underneath. Before the man could regain his footing, she jumped onto his back, and looped an arm around his neck, cutting off his air supply. He clawed at her arms. When he calmed, she hopped off and backed away from the prone body. The voices yelled at her to kill the soldier, growing angrier and more frustrated with each breath.

She looked at the speakers, face blank. “I am not your killer.” she snarled.

The prone body breathed but did not move. The voices rose to a high, frothy pitch. Two darts shot into chest, and she stumbled backwards, swaying. “Bastards.” she spat, and collapsed.

Natasha cleared her throat, and Fury leaned forward, “What does this prove?” he asked, although his eyes were still on the last still of the short film.

“All of her videos and reports were exactly as this.” Natasha pulled up more reports, pointing out the angry red marks, the words meaning failure. “She resisted Hydra brainwashing. She refused to kill, refused to obey commands. She’s is labeled as recalcitrant, resistant, disobedient.”

“Well, the serum exaggerates all traits of the individual, physical and mental alike.” Steve leaned back, and used a pen to point to the picture on the screen. “Maybe her physical traits matched their expectations, but not her personality.”

“So are you telling me, that Hydra potentially created a female Steve Rogers.” Fury squinted at Natasha, who shrugged.

“She was labeled stubborn several times.” Natasha smirked.

“So I think that is a yes.” Bucky turned his chair to face the one eyed director of SHIELD.

“Sir?” Jarvis’s voice filled the room, light and British as ever. One of the perks - or cons - of living, working, and breathing in Stark Tower. All four looked to the ceiling.

“What is it?” Fury barked.

“There is a situation in the Medical Ward.” Silence fell again, and Fury felt his gut twist unpleasantly.

“What situation?” although the question was tentative, his anger was not. “It seems Ms. Rossi has awakened from her...sleep.”

“Well put her back to bed.” Fury growled, “Where is the situation in that?”

If Jarvis was human, he might have chuckled. “She has currently incapacitated the doctor, two nurses, three SHIELD agents, not including Barton who she threw through the door, and is currently using a metal tray as a shield. Quite reminiscent of Captain Rogers.” Jarvis paused, “Thor is on his way there, but I do not believe it will do him any good to go alone. She is very agile.”

Bucky and Steve shot to their feet as an imagine of her came across the scene, live from the cameras of the medical facility. People screamed, and the harsh voices of wary SHIELD agents flooded over the speakers as the German voices did only shortly before.

“Where the _fuck_ am I? And who the hell are you?” she screamed, hair disarrayed, dressed in only a flimsy hospital gown. Hand cuffs dangled from her wrist as she waved a broken IV pole in on hand and a tray in the other. “What the hell is going on? Get - get away from me!” her voice ricocheted.

“She was in hand cuffs?” Steve shot at Fury, who did not respond, but paid rapt attention to the disaster unfolding in front of him. They watched as she patted another agent away from her, using the pole to trip him quickly before launching herself over him to run farther down the hall, bare feet slapping against the linoleum.

“As you can see, a situation.” Jarvis reiterated.

“Enough of your sass, Jarvis.” Fury barked, but his three best agents had already left, running towards the maelstrom let loose in the medical ward.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: mentions of attempted suicide. Could be a trigger.

She barely felt the slippery cold tile beneath her feet as she ran, her breathing harsh, her legs sore and stiff. Her body felt wrong, so wrong, too wrong, again and her head was full of cotton, her tongue was dry and stuck to the roof of her mouth. 

She slammed herself into the metal door, and it burst off its hingers. A dart went wide, and missed her neck. She spun around, using the broken pole in her hands to whack at the...the whatever this person was. He crumpled into the wall, and she used the tray to smack at a female following close behind. With a pained grunt, she fell onto her comrade and Oriana took off, taking the stairs two at a time, her breath still uneven. 

This was all unfamiliar, the concrete nondescript stairs, the medical facility with the exposed lights, the sounds of a full vibrant city outside. She could hear them through the walls. She...she remembered, but didn’t. It was all too damned hazy, but she did remember the needles, and the handcuffs weren’t new either. 

Where was she?

Had they moved her? Again? She thought SHIELD found her. The guy with the metal arm. And the helicopter?

Maybe they did, maybe they didn’t. A ruse? Who the fuck knew? Thoughts were hard to come by at the moment. 

Terror, pure, unadlerated terror fueled her body, as stiff and disobedient as it was. It wasn’t just instinct, it was fear of the highest degree. When she broke into the floor above, agents were waiting for her, guns poised at the ready, their words muddled, her ears ringing with the sound of her own blood furiously pumping through her veins. 

Hair stuck to her neck and face, her eyes stung. 

Another lab. Another round of experiments. 

A wide clear window glittered with sunlight at the other end of the hall. She could see the skyline, skyscrapers, thin white clouds of a city beyond. She was far, far above the ground. 

She was _not_ going to let them hold her down anymore. She was going to fly. 

Better be to be dead, then continue like this. 

She took a shaky breath and charged, the group of soldiers seem shocked at the ridiculousness of her head on collision. She barreled into them before they could gather their wits about them, and she tossed two aside like empty puppets, dropping the tray with a clatter, and taking the pole in both hands to push against those in front of her. Their yelling was incoherent, their words lost on her. She only saw their guns, saw their own angry, tight faces, saw their uniforms and ammunition belts. When she cleared them, she picked up her speed, bracing for the shattering glass she was sure to meet. 

The window was just in reach, when she was tackled to the floor, a smooth metal arm slipping over her shoulder, pinning her to the ground beneath her. Her legs felt the draft of cool air on her over heated skin. 

“No!” was her strangled cry, the window - and release - was so close. She struggled against her captor, growing more frantic when he did not budge, his strength greater than even her own. “No, no, no!” She screamed relentless, the body pressing into hers, heavy but gentle, pinning her down. 

“I will not be their lab rat!” she sobbed, “I will not -” he words lost in a heaved, heavy shriek. 

“No!” she wailed, her own screams the only sound left in the hallway. Safeties clicked on, her nails scratching into the linoleum, leaving behind grooves and blood from her nails. 

“I will not...will not be their lab rat....” she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks, pooling on the floor, stinging her nose and cracked lips, head thumping to the ground in defeat as the man held onto her more tightly, bringing her into his chest, knees holding down legs. 

Her terrified breath came and went quickly, body trembling, twitching with pain and anger and fear. 

“You will not,” the voice was warm and soft and raspy in her ear, the words slipping through her terrified daze. “You are safe, Oriana.”

She wanted to turn her head, but barely caught a glimpse of the needle that slipped between the arms and plunged into her neck. Her world went dark immediately. 

Bucky let go of her limp body, and backhanded the doctor away. Stumbling, the wide eyes watched him shakily, lips moving but no words came out. 

“What do you think you are doing?” he yelled, the fingers of his metal arm clenching. She lay sprawled and unmoving on the floor, blood soaking her fingertips, face puffy with tears. He bent down and gingerly picked her up, head rolling backwards. Suicide. She was going to commit suicide rather than…he couldn't bring himself to think of what she believed the alternatives were. 

“She needed to be sedated!” the doctor swallowed uneasily, suddenly uncertain as Steve Rogers jogged up to them, the skin around his mouth and eyes tight as he looked at the slim figure dangling in Bucky’s arms. 

“What was she saying?” he asked. Bucky glanced down at her, breath finally even, sweat staining the collar of the horribly green hospital gown. 

“She wasn’t going to be their lab rat anymore.” Bucky replied deadpan, eyes distant. Steve took a step forward, and turned over her arm, ignoring the bruising from around her wrist, the hand cuff clinking with the movement. 

Small tattooed numbers and letters was seen through the purpling of her skin. 

“Is this...?” Steve looked towards the doctor. 

“A tattooed identity number.” the doctor replied, flushing, “we...we hadn’t, um, noticed that.” 

Steve’s glare sent the man scurrying backwards, and Bucky began walking away, eyes full of thunder. 

Agents scrambled around them, but were ignored by the two super soldiers, Bucky cradling the unconscious girl in his arms, trying desperately to remember why he joined SHIELD in the first place.


	4. Chapter 4

The interrogation room - because that’s what it was - came right from some formulaic cop show. Plain empty table, unadorned metal chair, one door and a one-way window, with who knows watching on the other side. Sans handcuffs and in SHIELD sweats, she sat ram-rod straight watching the door. Her brain had already concocted two different methods of escape, each causing more damage than the last, and quite frankly she wasn’t ready for another horse tranquilizer.

She fidgeted with her hair, picking at the dead ends of her braid, foot tapping every so often. She kicked off the ridiculous slippers they gave her, preferring to be bare foot. She glanced at the window, then the door.

“I have better things to do than sit here all day.” she griped, staring through the window. As hard as she tried, she detected no movement on the other side. Yet she knew they were there. Probably the metal armed man and Captain Rogers, frequent visitors to her bedside. Steve was nice, asked her questions, not the hard kind. The simple kind, who was she, where was she from, what did she look to do, what were her favorite foods. He brought her a few books when she mentioned she liked to read. She didn’t always feel chatty.

That’s why she liked the other one better - Bucky. He was silent, almost unnervingly so. He barely said anything, his eyes hard and blue. He sat in the corner by her bed, in perfect view of the door and closet. He never said anything. But neither did she. She had nothing left to say.

The door opened, and she knew who he was. Director Nicholas Fury of SHIELD, followed by another female agent with short brown hair.

“You look tense, Director Fury,” she gave him her best careless smirk, when she really wanted to leap across the table and dash through the door. The other agent pushed the door closed.

“Could...could you leave that open?” she asked, her fingers twitching, eyes bouncing from the tall man in the long coat to the woman behind him, all sass falling away at the thought of another closed, locked door.

“What? Ready to leave already?” he asked, nodding at the woman, who firmly shut the door behind her. It clicked shut, locking in place. She looked as blank as Fury.

“Yes. As a matter of fact I am.” Oriana barked, crossing and uncrossing her legs, her urge to flee boiling in her stomach, tasting like bile in her throat.

“We extend our invitation for you to stay.” Fury replied, he sat down, so did the woman. They stared at one another, her fingers tapping, her ankles crossed. Her face remained calm, hiding her rising heart rate, the ball of fear winding itself around and around her lungs. She focused on her breathing, focused on keeping it even, keeping the gush of frustrated screams in her throat where they belonged.

“I don’t accept. I want to go home.” she responded, her voice clipped. She stared at Fury.

He stared at her. “We need you to stay with us.” the woman interjected, glancing at Fury from the corner of her eyes, then back at Oriana, “for a little while longer.”

“Excuse me?” Oriana narrowed her eyes, letting her rage stamp down the fear. “Stay with you? Why do I need to stay with you?”

Oriana leaned forward, watched as Fury’s hand slipped to his hip, and she slammed her palms down on the table, and pushed backwards. Fury and the woman shot up, pulling out hand helds and pointing them at her chest.

“I am _not_ going to hurt you!” she yelled, “I want to go home!” Unbidden, the tears began pooling in the corners of her eyes. So much in her chest, the fear, the anxiety, the anger, they all ping-ponged inside her. “Why won’t you let me?!”

“We need to monitor you.” Fury said, “we need to be very certain you are not a danger.”

“A danger? To who? Goddamn it, I did not escape from Hydra to just be imprisoned elsewhere!” She saw red, the rage fueled her, it shimied up her spine, pulsed along her jaw and arms, made her fingertips tingle. “I want to go home.” she felt the words catch and strangle her.

Seven months, _seven months_ she had been with them.

“We have yet to see.” Fury replied coolly, watching her, but lowering his gun. She turned around, her back to them, and her hands dove into her hair, fingers burying roughly down to her scalp.

“I...please, _please_ ,” Oriana wasn’t beyond begging. She no longer had any pride. After Hydra? After what they did? She had no use for pride. No use for any of this. “I want to see my family, my friends. They must think I’m dead.”

“They do.” Fury told her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head towards the ceiling. She took in a deep breath through her mouth, running her tongue over lips.

“Will you ever let me see them?”

“Once we can safely label you as a non-Hydra combatant.”

She whipped around, “ _You think I’m Hydra?!_ ” she snarled, “After what they did to me, you think I’m one of them?”

“How fucking warped are you?” she snapped, and began to pace. No one spoke. The two SHIELD officers watched her, shoulders punched, legs moving in long fluid motions. She moved like a predator, it was watching a smaller, less stable version of Natasha, all grace and limbs, ready to spring.

“We have some questions, Oriana.” the woman sat back down, smoothing into the chair, and making a show of putting both hands on the table. Oriana continued to pace, ignoring her.

“Fuck your questions.”

“The more you cooperate with us, the sooner you can be released.” Fury barked back, “so answer some damn questions.”

“Released? What am I? In prison. No, you don’t get to hold me unwarranted like this. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“We never said that, Oriana.” the woman placated.

“Then let me walk out that door and find my way home.”

“We can’t do that.” Fury sighed,

“Then fuck. your. questions.” she snapped at him. Fury stood up, and pointed the gun at her, eyes narrowed, and his usual scowl plastered to his face.

The door burst open, and Steve Rogers strolled in.

“I’ll take it from here,” he shot a look to Fury that read no arguments, and held the door open for him, face blank. The scowl deepened, but Fury took the cue. After the Hydra disaster over a year ago now, Fury gave orders, but never pressed an issue with Captain America. The grizzled man ducked out of the room, and leaving the door open, Steve took a seat next to the woman, who watched the exchange with curiosity but remained silent.

“Hi, Maria.” he nodded to her, and then leaned back comfortably in his chair. Dressed in plain jeans and a blue shirt that was a little too small, he gave Oriana a small smile.

“Wanna chat?” he asked her, casually putting his arms behind his head, resting on his clasped hands.

“No.” she grumbled, the wind falling out of her sails. She slipped forlornly into her chair, and heaved a sigh. Fury riled her, his tone poked at every hurt he couldn’t possibly see. Steve shrugged nonchalantly, “Okay.”

“Okay,” she replied, letting her shoulders relax. Her whole body began to unwind, but not completely. Even as her breath stopped hitching in her chest, her muscles still remained on edge. Every sense was alert, she could hear the soft murmur of voices and footsteps from beyond the open door. The silence drifted around like fog, and now that she began to calm, her body felt wired, lethargic.

“Thanks,” she motioned with her head towards the door. He shrugged again. They fell into silence once more, and she took note of her body.

It was healthier, they gave her fresh food daily, but monitored the intake. No binging here. She knew she was stronger now that she wasn’t being half starved. There was a constant stream of nurses, doctors, assistants moving in and out of the hospital room they dumped her. Four days since her initial attempt at escape. Four days of thinking.

Until she was dragged in here, well ‘asked’ to join them here. She caught sight of the tranq darts on their belts. Maybe they underestimated her. Maybe they were hoping she’d go off the deep end. Didn’t matter. They didn’t trust her and she sure as hell didn’t trust them.

“Fury has a difficult time talking to people.” Steve ventured after a few more moments of quiet. Oriana raised an eyebrow, and then turned away from him. Her reflection revealed a very unkempt, frazzled young woman with a stronger jaw than she remembered.

“That was him talking?”

“You should see him when he’s pissed.”

Her lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. “I think I’ll pass.”

Steve nodded, and then leaned forward, towards her, showing her his hands. “Oriana -”

She held up her hand to stop him, and she shook her head. “If you are going to say something along the lines of ‘this is for _your_ safety’, don’t bother, Steve.”

He opened up his hands, “Alright, we have been investigating this underground Hydra operation for half a year.” Maria explained, “and so far you are the only survivor we have had contact with.”

Oriana remained silent, but stared at the woman intently. Clearing her throat, Maria continued, “We believe you could be invaluable to us in eradicating this program. You have information that is vital to this mission.” She pulled out a file from underneath the table, and placed it equidistant between them. As she opened it, Oriana looked away, catching splashes of dark colors.

“You don’t need to show me what they did.” her voice was monotone and her eyes locked with Steve, “I already know.”

Oriana glanced at the glass, and felt herself just turn off. It was a switch, somewhere deep inside her, in the deepest, darkest pits Hydra mined from her soul. She sunk back into the shadows she emerged from.

“I am that product. Their perfect experiment.” There was nothing behind her voice, “I am better than they ever hoped for.”

Her eyes glazed over, as she looked around the room, glancing over their faces. Yet her mind was far away, lingering somewhere in her memory, flipping through pieces of the last seven months, going through them like a magazine, all shine and gloss.

“You don’t need to remind me, Agent Maria.”

Maria shifted, “I understand that this is difficult.”

“No. You don’t,” Oriana snapped, jumping back from her odd reverie. “You have no idea what I’ve been through. Don’t pretend to do so either. The only one who has any inkling is not in this room. So get on with it, don’t try to placate me. You obviously aren’t keeping me in an interrogation room to tell about my good looks.”

She leveled her gaze at Steve, who tried to hide his smile, but failed. He shook his head, “We need you to help us. You aren’t the same woman who went into that building seven months ago, you and I both know that you know this. SHIELD needs to know you are safe to release into the world. You’re right, we don’t know what happened to you, other than what we found in your file. So, we don’t know if you’re ready to go back to civilian life. If you ever will be.”

“You need to make a decision. You have the effects of the super serum, and whether you want it to or not, that changes everything. You made a choice to _not_ align with Hydra.”

“That doesn’t mean I want to help you either.” she interrupted. Steve gave her a moment before continuing.

“I know that, which is why I’m giving you this choice. You can help us, and in turn we can help you.”

She blinked slowly, and began to chew her lip. In some part of her brain, the small hidden part that she protected dearly during her imprisonment, she realized she needed help. There was all kinds of messed up going on inside her, a maelstrom ready to explode and she needed a weatherman to guide her through it. A part of her knew Steve was right. She acknowledged this part. But yet she longed for home, she longed for something to clutch to her and hold. She was breaking inside, the doctors said it was normal, the trauma was significant and damaging.

“I can’t give you an answer right now.” she murmured, looking down, away from him. Captain America wanted her help, _the_ Captain America. The same one who showed her respect and sat by her bedside, who helped save her from Hydra. She felt she owed him something for that. She knew he was right, even if she couldn’t accept right now that he was.

“I wasn’t expecting you to. But I do have an extra bedroom upstairs with your name on as well as some great pizza from Brooklyn.” She nodded. “Steve -” Maria stood up, and gathered the files up. Steve stood up liesurely, glancing at her, silencing her.

“I like pizza.” Oriana said, slowly getting to her feet. “Pepperoni?”

“Of course,” Steve smiled, and she nodded, a clear well of gratefulness blooming in her chest.


	5. Chapter 5

Days passed, at the Rogers/Buchanan suite. The room wide with a massive window that let her gaze for hours at the New York skyline, the shock of Central Park green reflected on the glinting buildings around them. Sunshine greeted her in the mornings, but she never saw any stars at night.

Steve let her be. He somehow managed to procure clothing, a pair of jeans, new black converse in her size, a few simple shirts. She ghosted through the apartment in mismatching socks, raiding the cabinets when she knew she was alone. Although, it was difficult to judge with Bucky. He moved as silently as she did, and more than once she bumped into him on her midnight fridge raids.

She was hungry all the time. Steve was kind enough to keep them stocked, in well, everything.

But currently, she was using the door frame to do arm lifts. Although Steve never mentioned, leaving the apartment was not allowed. She convinced him once to let her leave. It didn’t go well. Thor found her in the gym, as she attempted to work off some of abundance of energy. He thought she was escaping. He grabbed her. She kicked him. God of Thunder threw into the wall. It took Steve, Bucky, and Tony to separate the two of them. Thor arrived later with two bottles of mead to ‘drink over their new found friendship’. Tony wanted to bill them both for damages. They were going to need a new gym.

Steve and Fury compromised. If she was unaccompanied -aka chaperoned - she could leave. Since she despised the security detail, she found other ways to entertain herself. Such as pull ups on the door frame.

“you’re not bad for a girl,” Steve chuckled, walking by her open door and towards the kitchen.

“And you’re pretty fast for a old man, gramps.” she shot back at him, letting go and landing crouched. She wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her arm, and followed him.

“Food?” she inquired, sliding onto a barstool. Diluted sunshine filtered through the wall of windows behind her.

“You’re hungry again?” he pulled out a pan and put it on the stove. She raised her eyebrows hopefully, and leaned on her arms. The marble island cool against her flushed skin.

“What? I ate, like, two hours ago.” she grinned, “plus I have seven months of food to make up for.”

His look was skeptical. He found that when she was in a bright mood, it was best to not question it. She dipped in and out of dark silences and laughter, she was split in two, and all he could do was help her ease the passage between the darkness inside her, the memories, the fear, and the person she was, and needs to become.

“Eggs?” she prompted as he opened the refrigerator. He began pulling out onions, peppers, and a carton of eggs.

“If you shower, maybe I’ll let you have some. And let Buck know I’m cooking. He needs to eat more than just popcorn.”

“But popcorn is delicious.” she stood up and stretched. He wrinkled his nose, and cut off a slab of butter.

“really, please, go shower.” he urged with a smile, and she stuck her tongue at him before prancing off towards the bathroom. She stripped off her shirt, and pressed for hot water. She dipped under the spray with a sigh, and relished the feel of it.

It was the little things, really. Hot showers, hot food, a bed, the sunlight. It was her bra and the ability to unlock and lock her door if she wanted. There were things that made her indescribably grateful. She could never feel bad after a warm shower, when she felt her muscle burn from exercise not hunger. Yet she felt guilty here too.

She had wanted to protect them, protect the others in her cell, her cell block. She wanted to tell her family she was alive, that she could come home. She wanted to be happy, but the more she tried to keep that feeling, the more it dragged her down. She didn’t want to feel guilty, but how could she not? She left them. She left them to die because she...she couldn’t do that. She couldn’t kill them, but neither could she die with them.

She shook away the thoughts, and shut off the water. Steve told her not to dwell on these things, but he didn’t get it. Didn’t understand. She wrapped a towel around her, and stepped out of the steamy room. Her hair stuck to her forehead and neck, cheeks were flushed. Oriana stepped out into the cool hallway, and took a breath to steady herself, to chase away the storm inside her. She rapped her knuckles on Bucky’s closed door.

“Eggs. Three minutes. Captain’s orders.” she called out, she needed a moment to plaster her cheerful attitude on. It was amazing, really, how she could go from generally decent to wanting to cry in a corner in .3 seconds. Or the time it takes to shower.

There was no reply and no responding shuffle, so she moved on to her own room to groom and make happy. She knew, deep down, somewhere in the pieces of her that still function, she liked Steve and Bucky. Maybe Thor.

She wanted, on some level, to be happy, at least for them. Steve tried, really he did, to make her feel at ease. But it wasn’t easy. But their was such a weight inside her, such a heaviness that kept her awake at night, kept her running during the day. Happiness seemed another weight to add to her shoulders, and pretending, pretending was work she didn't want. 

It was too...much. Too much to think about.

She threw on whatever was lying around on the floor, she hated mess. But she needed it. Needed the chaos of her own choosing. She kicked her dirty shorts towards the window, and rummaged for a clean pair. Oriana yanked them on, ran a comb through her tangled mess of hair.

When she finally emerged, she ran into Bucky, who leaned casually on the wall across from her door. She stopped short. He squinted at her, and pushed off from the wall.

“Hey Bucky!” she chirped, but his face didn’t change.

She told herself to smile, but started walking towards the wafting smell of omelet, knowing it wouldn't look right on her face. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and before she could think, she whipped around and hit the arm away. Her breath went up, and so did her fists.

He looked at her, his blue eyes like a storm at sea, “You don’t have to pretend with me.” He nodded solemnly then walked past her.

She hugged herself, and followed after him, watching his back, his shoulders bunch underneath the shirt. Pretending? But what else what she supposed to do?


	6. Chapter 6

She was pointedly ignoring him. She was. Really. Honestly.

Bucky sat, legs open, in his chair in the corner of the living room. Loose gray sweat pants. Long sleeved black shirt. He could see everything from his corner, the front door, the kitchen, the long empty deck. And he was watching her.

To be fair, she was hanging upside down from a bar Steve kindly installed for her for pull ups and crunches. She broke her door frame, and after arguing with Tony for a good hour, Steve casually walked through the door with this contraption under his arm. She grumbled as he fixed it to the wide, open doorway between dining area and living room. He wanted her to socialize more, not hermit in her room. He huffed audibly every time either she or Bucky disappeared down the hallway.

The man was such a drama queen.

She crunched up one more time, the sweat rolling down her neck, passing over her lips. When she swung down, she met Bucky’s eyes. Then she pulled herself up, then down. Met his Eyes. Up. Down. Eyes.

She grunted as she pushed herself upwards, arms crossed over her chest. She held herself there, letting the burn grow in her abdomen. When she let herself drop, she was confronted with a Bucky three inches from her face.

Oriana yelped, and her legs untangled themselves from the bar. She plopped on the ground in a mixture of sweaty limbs.

“Jesus christ Bucky...”

His silence was unnerving. He moved like death, a ghost, footsteps light for such a big guy. Even the arm was smooth and silent. He looked down at her, one eyebrow barely raised as she swung around to a more comfortable sitting position.

 “Want to go for a run?” his voice was raspy, rough, with the barest hint of an accent, like his mind wasn’t positive of his own words. She bent her knees up.

“Like at the gym?” He nodded, and she began to chew her lip. When she glanced at the door, her pulse rose, pounding against her lip cage. Suddenly, her fast breath wasn’t from physical exertion. Heat flooded her face, circling her eyes, her neck, her ears. Whenever she so much as looked at the front door, she felt this beast begin to ravage her inside. The anxiety bubbled in the caldron of her chest and frothed in her stomach, throat, eyes. She feared leaving this cell of safety that Steve created for her.

Since that one disasterous day with Thor, she hadn’t left. Not for lack of trying. Steve asked her once if she wanted to go to the gym with him. She had wanted to go, she really, really, _really_ did. But as soon as that door opened, her feet turned her around and sped her back to her room, where she locked the door and didn’t move for over twenty four hours. Seven of which she shook and shook, rattling her own bones, face aching with tears.

When she had finally emerged, it was in the middle of the night and she ran into Bucky, who was watching - of all the goddamn things - _The Great Mouse Detective_. She sat down on the couch, curling her feet underneath her. Barely glancing at her, he stood up swiftly, paused the movie, and returned a minute later with her own bowl of popcorn. He sat it next to her, and they both resumed the movie, neither of them speaking a word.

“I...I don’t know. Maybe later.” she mumbled, leaning her chin on her knees. She scrunched into a tighter ball, making herself as small as possible. He squatted down in front of her, his face blank, scruff darkening his jaw.

“Or now.” he caught her eyes, and she held them but for a second. Oriana shifted, and jumped up, moving away from him, moving away from the look in his eyes that said something she didn’t want to hear or know or think about. She slipped into the kitchen, and she knew he followed her. She busied herself, grabbing a glass, turning on the faucet, drinking the cold water. She leaned against the counter, and looked anywhere but at the big man in the doorway.

“I’m exhausted.” Which wasn’t a lie. Or a truth either. “Maybe another time.”

Bucky looked behind him, and then leveled his gaze once more in her direction. “You did 137 crunches.” he told her evenly, “you’re normal surpasses 250.”

She downed the rest of her water, letting it cool the battle inside her body, the battle to keep from screaming, from running off that balcony.

She pointed a finger at him, holding onto the glass, “that’s really fucking creepy that you know that.”

He shrugged. She put the glass down in the sink, letting herself just...be for a second. She had never felt very comfortable with silence before...before this. Now it was all she wanted. To just sit still for hours. She was awake...but her brain wasn’t on. It was just being in a state of nothing.

She chewed on her lip, and looked over her shoulder at him. He watched her.

She liked Bucky. He was quiet and didn’t push her. Steve...was very Steve. She was energetic but Steve was the energizer bunny. Bucky she could sit with at 3am and watch whatever late night show happened to be re-running, and not say a word and just have it be just that. He didn’t question her. He didn’t ask her why she wasn’t sleeping. He didn’t ask her why she didn’t want to leave the apartment. Didn’t prod her when she hid when company visited. He just sat with her or gave her a wide berth or made her popcorn.

She liked Bucky.

But right now, she wasn’t liking Bucky.

He never pushed her, but he knew. And she knew he knew. And he knew that she was spiraling to something on the inside.

“The gym will be empty.” he encouraged, before walking away. It took her a moment, a whole moment, for her to quell the white noise in her head and take the deep breath. She didn’t want to leave the apartment, but it wasn’t like she could stay here forever.

~~~

He was a silent runner, but a fast one.

But she was faster.

Steve was the strongest of the three of them, Bucky had the best reflexes and was an excellent marksmen. But she, Oriana, could run faster and longer than they could combined. Maybe it was her size, less wind resistance. Whatever it was, Bucky kept pace with her for the first few miles, then let her go.

Taking in deep gulping breaths, she let her feet barely touch the track beneath her and felt her legs move fluidly, going, going, going. She couldn’t stop once she went loose. The sweat stung, her muscles quivered, and her lungs screamed from the exertion. Yet there was no slowing her down. It was a blur.

Bucky had had to steer her blindly to the elevator, but she didn’t freak on him. He stood a little too close, but she pushed aside her beating heart and nervous jitters. He threw her a purple gatorade and a towel, before setting into an easy jog.

Now, who knew how the time past? Her anxiety fueled her, gave her the strength to keep her legs moving when she ached and shook and sweated. Her dry lips cracked under the salty taste on her tongue. Her arms pumped as her legs left the ground, her feet pounding alongside her racing heart. This was so much better than crunches or pull ups. She actually felt tired for once, like the stores of energy were depleting.

 She passed Bucky twice, before she noticed he was gone.

She let her body roll to a stop, thighs shaking along with her own poor abused lungs. He sat with Steve. Both were waiting for her, leaning forward, except Bucky looked a tad sweatier, long hair damp.

“Impressive.” Steve called out to her.

“Impressive enough to get me a burger?” she answered, wiping her brow. She plodded over to them, and Steve handed her the drink. She downed the bottle in three large gulps.

“You just might get two.” he smiled at her, Bucky looked down, elbows on his knees, hair hanging limply around his face.

“Dibs on the bathroom.”

He looked up at her, and narrowed his eyes. She quirked her mouth up and took a few hopped steps backwards,

“we already know who is faster...”

He shot up, and Oriana shot forward, moving towards the door at a speed that shocked them both after her enormously exhausting run. She knew he was hot on her heels as she sped through the weight room and past Thor, cut across the sparring room as a short cut to the stairs, and kicked open the door.

There was a sharp ‘hey!’ that they both ignored.

She half slid down the thin railing, before swinging herself over it and onto the flight of stairs below.

“Show off,” he grumbled as she flew before him, always a step ahead.

She wanted to laugh at the insanity of it all. Here she was once a normal girl from New York, now racing the Winter Soldier for the bathroom she shared with him and Captain America. It was astounding, really, how weird her life was becoming. In some ways she could barely believe it, other times it made her want to scream.

She bust open the apartment door, and slid into home. Bucky slammed into the closed bathroom door, and it shook with his wieght.

“Too slow, old man!”

“Don’t think this is over,” came his disgruntled reply. She turned on the water, and stripped off the slick under armor shorts and sports bra. Then turning around, she cracked open the door. Bucky glanced over his shoulder as he unlocked his own bedroom door. 

"Thanks, Sarg.”

He nodded, but something glinted, almost merrily, in his dark blue eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I do not have a beta reader, so I'm so sorry for all the typos!

Sometimes...sometimes she felt she was two completely different people. There was a divide within her, splitting her soul in two. There was the woman she once was. There was the old Oriana, the curvy, nerdy girl who gushed over the Avengers and read too much.

She was a survivor of many things. Sick as a baby. Beat the shit out of that. Grew up in a rough neighbor. Got out of that. Paid for college on her own. Made it through an abusive family. She did it all. She fucking survived Hydra for crying out loud. Every day she fought them. Fought against them. Fought against the rage inside herself. She fought it all, the brainwashing, the beatings, the humiliation, the helplessness, the...rape. She did it.

She fought for so long, she fought for so, so long. Now that she didn’t need to, she had no idea what to do with herself. Her walls were collapsing around her, the dust and the debris clogging up her brain. The weight of it all settled on her chest at night, pressing down at her until she was too exhausted even to cry.

Resilient. That is what they called her. But she didn’t feel that way. She felt tired, but with too much energy. She felt angry with nothing to be angry at. She wanted to go home, but feared the moment when they set her free. It was a sticky web, and every time she attempted to follow a string home, it only grew more tangled.

She rolled over, the window tinted dark, keeping at the bay the startling lights of New York City. Her analog clock read just after 2. Steve would be asleep by now. Although she noticed he remained awake later and later. With two unstable, healing super soldiers, it was taking its toll on him.

So she faked it. She pretended to sleep if just to ease the guy. He had done so much for her already. The least she could do was let him get some sleep. Someone needed to.

Oriana slipped from her overly comfortable bed, and pulled on a sweatshirt over her boxers and tank top. Plodding barefoot, she cracked open her door. The apartment was covered in that sweet nighttime silence, where even the noises of the daytime dispersed and the blanket of darkness drifted across the rooms and hallways, when even the hum of the refrigerator is dulled with sleep.

Steve’s door was ajar, and she flattened herself against the opposite wall to pass by. There was no movement or sound, and she hoped he was somewhere off in dream land, dreaming of some star spangled girl or America or freedom, whatever it was he dreamt about.

The kitchen was silent, the green lights of the clock over the stove giving her just enough to see by. Midnight kitchen raids. They were a thing. An unhealthy thing, but a thing. Pushing back her hair over her ears, she squinted into the harsh light of the fridge. Taco leftovers? No, too much work. Cold pizza?

Hell. Yes.

“Want a piece, Bucky?” she whispered into the night.

“No,” and he shook his bowl of Chex mix, something she - proudly - introduced him to, and now Tony should think about buying stock in.

She snatched a piece of pizza and meandered over to the living area. Bucky was in his chair, and looking as exhausted as she did. His arm glinted in the reflected light of the city. His hair was disheveled around his stern face, bowl in his lap. She plopped down by his feet, crossing her legs. She leaned her head onto the arm of the chair and looked out over the city.

It was beautiful, quite the sight to see. All lights and blurred colors and dazzling spectacle of human ingenuity, iconic really. Just lights upon lights. And here they both were, locked in the shadows, watching the never ending illumination spill out like marbles at their feet.

This was their ritual. Steve knew better than intrude. Night after night, they came here, to the comforting darkness where they didn’t need to look at each other, didn’t need speech or facial expression, just the shadows to wrap themselves in. This is what it felt like. After Hydra. You were a shadow, just looking out at the rest of the world, watching it as it went by. Bucky got it. She didn’t need to pretend to sleep for him. He sat in the dark with her.

“Fury wants you to join SHIELD.” Bucky told her. He handed her the bowl, with a few pieces of chocolate leftover.

“I know.” she answered, picking at the pieces, but not eating.

“Will you?” he asked quietly, she heard his metal arm move.

 

She sighed through her nose. "I don't know." It wasn't a lie. The indecision tore at her. This rift inside her, the bridge burning beneath her feet. Continue on here, helping the Avengers with her…abilities. Or return to life she couldn't quite possibly fit into again. 

“Can we go for a walk?” she blurted, standing up.

Steve told her Fury wanted an answer. But she wasn’t ready to give him one. She kept thinking about her family. Kept thinking about her time with Hydra. Each day brought new surprises about her body, her treatment.

Bucky unfolded himself from the chair, his shoulders broad even in the dark, and she felt something uncoil inside her. A snake unwrapping itself from a nest, each one stretching, and stretching, loosening. He bent down and snatched his zip up.

When they were out in the vacant hall, still barefoot, his head bent low, towards her. She glanced behind them, then before them.

“How many exit routes did you just create?” he asked quietly. She shrugged.

“I have at least three from the layout of the floor that I know of.” she shot him a look, her mouth quirked in a wry grin, “but Jarvis won’t let me see the building plans.”

“I have seven.” was his reply. Their eyes met briefly for a second. Broken people, broken smiles, cracked on the inside. Maybe that’s why she liked being with Bucky so much. He understood the mold Hydra made her from. He knew her darkness, because he had it too.


	8. Chapter 8

“We need a decision.” Fury stalked the length of the briefing room. He hands were clasped behind his rigid back, her unopened file glowing on the large computer screen. Stark was currently flipping through it on his tablet, pursing his lips, eyebrows lowered. Natasha sat next to Steve, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s been two months, we don’t have the time to coddle her.” Fury continued, glancing at the digital file before resuming his agitated pace.

“With all due respect, or not, depends here, I think she needs to be coddled.” Stark looked up, and for the first time since they entered the room, Steve let go of his breath.

“Did you read her file here? She just spent seven months in a Hydra hell, and you want her to bounce right into the Avengers Initiative?”

“Up until two weeks ago, she couldn’t leave our apartment.” Steve added, hoping to bolster any argument Stark might be forming. Tony flicked at the tablet, and reports flooded the screen.

“See here, all these tell me that she has no desire to become a soldier.” Tony pointed to what he brought into view.

“I don’t think she has much of a choice. When the girl wasn’t a walking, talking miniaturized Winter Soldier that was one thing. But now she can throw Barton through a door and give the God of Thunder a run for his money. I am _not_ letting that kind of asset go.” Fury barked, bringing up her more recent test results. In English, they documented her speed, her endurance, stamina, strength, healing abilities.

“She’s a human being, Fury. She’s not yours to command unless she gives you consent to do so.” Steve snapped back, “You won’t force her into anything.”

“She’s been traumatized.” Stark continued. “It’s one thing to have your noggin wiped clean after mission or trapped in the ice like Capsicle here -”

“Please stop calling me that.”

“But to remember each torture? Fury, you’ve lost it if you think she’ll even consider being a soldier. She wasn’t trained, she was tormented.” Stark removed the reports off the screen, and replaced it with one of the pre-kidnapping pictures.

She was short and curving where a sundress, surrounded by a group of friends, smiling into the camera, the glare of the sun obscuring the top right corner. Arms were around her shoulders, and one of the friends - a big bulking guy - was laughing. Her hair was frizzy, but it was a genuine happiness that diffused the group, and drew the attention right to her.

“Stop trying to pin her down to some numbers on a piece of paper.” Steve added, thinking of the taller, more muscled version of this girl, who right now, was hiding in her room.

“She’s not these reports. Until nine months ago she was a twenty four year old woman who was, for all we know, very normal. Hydra changed that, but that doesn’t mean she wants to continue like this.”

“So we ask her, Captain Rogers.”

“I think what Captain Rogers is trying to say is, we need to give her more time.” Natasha finally spoke. “She just went through an enormous upheaval.”

“We all have at one point or another.” Fury swiped the friendly picture from the screen. “She is not normal anymore.”

“But she was, which is our point. And you would know that, if you actually listened to us.” Stark bit back, “I saved New York, give me some credit.”

“How much more time are we looking at here?” Fury asked, placing his hands on the table, leaning towards the members of the team.

“I’m not sure. She won’t speak to any of the doctors here.” Steve replied with a shrug of his massive shoulders.

“Well, I can’t say I blame here. Hand cuffs and tranquilizer darts would make me wary of any SHIELD medical staff as well.” Tony leveled a look in Fury’s direction.

“We had no idea if she was Hydra or not, and I needed to take precautions so you can wipe that look of your face any time you want, Stark.”

“She was so frightened she want to commit suicide. Does that make you feel better, Fury?” Stark snapped, “She’s the victim here, stop trying to make her into the villain. She’s no Loki, she’s no Bucky. She’s a girl from Maine who was tortured, they tried to make her into a killer, and she still came out on top. She escaped the mess, she survived it. Give her time to adjust. But, come on, give her some respect.”

Steve was pleasantly surprised, watching Stark’s hackles raise. He had seen the man grow frustrated, even angry at times. But this was a new type of aggression he had never seen in Tony before. Tony stood up, and snapped the case closed on his hand held device.

“We’re done here. She can stay in this tower as long as she wants. Hell, if she wants a hobbit hole, I’ll build it for her.” Tony flashed a grin at Natasha and Steve, “anyone want a burger?”

Natasha rolled her eyes, and gracefully got to her feet. She gave Fury a pitiful glance before linking arms with Tony. Steve didn’t bother to look at the Director.

“Later, Fury.” Stark called over his shoulder.

“Captain, one moment.” Fury clicked a button or two on his control pad. Steve hesitated, and then turned to face Fury.

“Are you aware of Sergeant Barnes and Ms. Rossi’s nocturnal wanderings?” Three separate video windows appeared on screen. In their stills were the images of Bucky and Oriana, out in the different parts of the building. Steve looked at each of the stills in turn, studying the black and white images. They were dressed in loose fitting clothes, sleep wear, if he had to guess. They stood close together, his head bent low, down.

“For the past five days, these two have been taking midnight strolls throughout the building.”

“Last I checked there was no curfew.” Steve responded, frustration flaring in his chest. Couldn’t he let her be? Did he have to monitor everyone’s movements? When would he trust them?

“I trust them.” Steve finally said, and he did. He trusted Bucky. Did since the moment he saw him on the bridge, would always trust him. And...he trusted Oriana. She was lost, but not about to turn on them anytime soon.

“Maybe you should think about, Rogers. These two are Hydra influenced.”

“ _were_. They were Hydra influenced, but they are not Hydra.” Steve barked at Fury.

He looked back at the screen. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t see it before. Why Oriana preffered Bucky’s silence. She and Bucky were the same, abused by Hydra in a way he could never know. Bucky clearly saw what she was, someone pushed beneath Hydra’s thumb. It was why he was so protective her. She could have become him, but she didn’t.

And Bucky - he glanced at the third still, Bucky’s flesh arm just barely grazing hers, Oriana looking up into his face - wanted to keep her from that darkness as best he could.

~~~

Steve ushered Sam into their apartment, and shut the door softly behind them. The apartment, surprisingly, was not quiet for once.

“What do you mean, you think Jurassic Park is terrible? It’s a movie about dinosaurs. How can you hate dinosaurs?!” Oriana’s voice was sharp, something clinked sharply with the counter top.

“The second one was better.” Bucky responded evenly. Steve glanced at Sam, who shrugged.

“Next you’re going to tell me Boromir was the cooler brother.” she griped, she began rummaging through a cabinet.

“The second one has more interaction with the velociraptor.” Bucky continued.

“Yes, but the first one started it all. And has Richard Attenborough. And lots of pretend science.”

“That has nothing to do with the content of the movie.” Bucky countered, and Steve motioned for Sam to remain still. He had never heard them interact this much before.

“Are you telling me the scene when the raptor uses the door handle doesn’t give you chills?” There was momentary pause, “I don’t believe you. This is nonsense. How can I bring you into the twenty-first century when you don’t appreciate great movies?”

“I like the second one better.”

“I don’t think I can trust you ever again to choose the movie.” she grumbled, “like, _ever_.”

Steve pushed Sam forward, who was doing a better job at biting down his laughter than Steve. When they entered the kitchen, Steve cleared his throat. Oriana jumped into a standing position, and her eyes bounced between Sam and him. She was in jeans and a loose t-shirt today. Barefoot as per usual. She had painted her nails.

“Hi, Sam.”

“Hey, Bucky.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had company.” she scooted over, to make her exit. She gave Sam a small wave. And for a moment, Steve wondered if surprising her with Sam was a bad idea. How well she did with others varied. There were days when talking to him was difficult, but he had thought, walking in on this exchange with Bucky, it might have worked.

“Actually, I think the third one is the best. Spinosaurus? And pterodactyls?”

Oriana glanced at Bucky, and put her hand on her hip, cocking it. “You’ve got to be joking.” she gasped dramatically.

“Nope.”

Her eyes caught Steve, “what’s your opinion?” she asked. He shrugged, “I haven’t seen them.”

She huffed up, “Well I hope you have nothing to do, because we are having a movie marathon, and Steve is the judge.”

“Oh god no, he’s a terrible judge.” Sam groaned, "he liked Star Wars prequels." 

Oriana groaned again, "Really, Steve? Really?" 

"What?" he protested, "I've seen worse." 

Oriana flung up her hands, ignoring Steve's protest. “There will be popcorn, and whoever is right can pick the movies for the next month.” she nodded in finality, and marched off to the kitchen.

Steve relaxed a little bit, but noticed Bucky staring at Sam.

“The third one? really?” But the small upturn of his lips was one of the best things Steve had seen in a long, long while.

“What can I say, man, T-Rex is overrated.”


	9. Chapter 9

Oriana smoothed down the front of her soft, sheer shirt. Then picked at the cuffs, pulling at an nonexistent string. She tucked her hair behind her ears, and fiddled with the simple studs. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She left her long, thick hair down around her shoulders, hiding behind its natural curtain. Her face was leaner now, her collar bones surrounded by muscle.

There was no full length mirror here, so she patted her dark jeans. Her flats were outside in the hall.

There was a soft knock at the door. “Oriana? It’s time to go.” Steve told her quietly.

She took in a deep breath, trying to quell the restlessness pawing at her insides. No such luck. With one last look at herself, she knew there was no putting this off.

When she stepped into the living room, Sam, Bucky, and Steve were waiting for her. Sam leaned against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. Steve and Bucky in the middle of the room.

“Ready?” Steve asked her, his gaze soft as she shifted from one foot to the other. She nodded solemnly, then licked her lips. She looked up at Steve, avoiding Bucky’s eyes.

“Actually, can Sam drive me?” She glanced quickly at the third man, then out the windows behind Steve. There was a momentary pause, and then Steve tossed Sam the keys.

“You mind?”

“Nah, man.” Sam smiled, and walked over. He didn’t touch her, but she felt the warmth of him as he came close. Sam was good. Like Steve. They were good people. She hated tainting them like this, being so close to the black hole inside her.

“I hope you don’t mind a little Marvin Gaye on the ride over.” he laughed, grabbing a leather jacket from a chair.

Oriana glanced behind her briefly, meeting Bucky’s eyes, and saw nothing in them. He had shut himself off again. Was he angry she didn’t want him with her? He had been a large proponent of this. But now wasn’t the time to worry about Bucky’s feelings. Oriana needed to get her own under control.

She followed Sam, her shoulders and back knotting with tension.

“You have any Temptations?” she asked as jovially as she could muster.

Sam barked out a laugh. “Do you _really_ need to ask me that?”

~~~

She sat very, very still. Her foot didn’t tap, her fingers didn’t fidget, her eyes remained unblinking in their sockets. The room was like many others of its kind. Bland colored sofa, reproduced art on the walls, windows with the curtains drawn, bookcases full of medical and psychiatric tomes. A coffee table with no magazines, but instead a pad and crayons, empty zen garden. Two unfilled glasses, a pitcher of water.

The woman sat with her legs crossed, glasses perched on her nose, highlighted blonde hair pulled into a low pony tail.

“You look nervous, Oriana.” she ventured after another strained minute of silence.

“What was your first clue?” Oriana grumbled at her, keeping her eyes locked on the bookcases behind the middle aged woman. The doctor tapped her pencil on the pad seated on her lap.

“Why don’t you tell me why you came to see me today, Oriana.” Karen prodded gently. Oriana’s eyes flickered towards her, then back at the books. Two lamps stood as sentinels on either side of the couch she was sitting on.

“I’m sure you know already.” Oriana replied, fighting the urge to jump up and run out the door. “You’ve seen the file.”

“No, I refused it.” Oriana’s eyes slid slowly to meet the doe eyed brown ones Karen had leveled on her. She squinted momentarily at the woman across from her, the tall, broad shoulders, fleshy arms beneath a soft sweater. Clogs. Who wore clogs?

“You did.”

“I try to come into a room unbiased about my patients. You are no different.”

“So you have no idea who I am then. What happened.”

Karen shrugged, “I know the basics. Your name is Oriana Rossi, and you are twenty four years old. A friend of mine at the VA mentioned you needed someone to talk to.”

“Oh.” Oriana breathed, finally leaning back into the couch, sinking into the soft cushions. She tapped a finger, and rolled her stiff shoulders.

“So, Oriana, what would you like to talk about?” Karen asked one more time. Oriana shut her eyes briefly, and tried to catch one of the many whirling emotions inside her. It was like reaching out for a leaf in a gale, they cut at her, but she could catch nothing, for it was all moving too fast.

“I...I don’t know where to begin.” Oriana shook her head, looking at the edge of the table. Her gaze distant, as her memories squrimed to the surface of her mind.

“There are all these things I’m feeling, but I don’t have the words for them.”

“This is common with trauma.” Karen told her, and Oriana nodded.

“I - I have this disconnect. I recognize that I, I went through this, and its trauma and my brain is trying to make sense of it, and I should be able to move on from it, right? It was bad and its over. But I can’t. I still feel so scared and unsafe.”

“Why should you move on? Why do you need to be okay so fast?”

“So I can go back home, but I don’t...I don’t know. I don’t think I can go back home anymore. I’m...I’m so frightened. Of everything.” Oriana paused, and looked up, and her eyes began to ache. “I want my life back, but I don’t think I can. I lost everything, and...I’m so strong, physically, but I can’t seem to save myself. I can’t stop anything that I’m feeling. I can’t stop being scared. Of myself.”

~~~

When Oriana slipped into the passenger side door, the sounds of the parking garage disappeared. The black sedan was smooth and smelled of new leather. She slid the seat belt into place, and the soft notes of “My Girl” played over the stereo system.

Sam had one hand on the steering wheel, and gave her a quick look before reversing out of the parking space. Oriana settled deeply into the seat, her hands laying limply on her lap.

“Can we just drive for a little bit?” she asked, voice raspy from her tears.

“I’m supposed to bring you right back.” he answered apologetically. Oriana didn’t respond but her head turned, facing the window.

“Okay,” she murmured, eyes still closed, her cheeks felt swollen. She hadn’t been able to stop the tears after a while. Soon all she did was sob openly in front of Karen, balling tissue after tissue into her hands, uselessly wiping away tears.

“Jarvis?”Sam hit at the screen with a finger.

“Yes, Mr. Wilson?” came the cultured British voice.

“Find me a route with traffic.”

“Traffic, sir?”

“Yes. No questions asked. And keep Cap out of this.”

There was a pause. “If you turn right at the next street, it will add an extra fifty minutes to your commute back to Stark Tower.”

“Thank you, Jarvis.” Oriana mumbled gratefully, turning back to Sam.

He glanced at her. He misread her tears. “It’s okay to go talk to someone. There’s no shame in that.”

She gulped down her tears, and nodded. “It’s not easy.” she responded, “to talk about these things.”

“Oh, I know it.” Sam agreed, “I hated it at first too. And so did Cap.”

“Steve?” Oriana slid further into seat, relaxing, her eyes lit up and she looked up at Sam. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah!” Sam nodded vigorously. “When he first woke up? And after the whole Bucky thing? Even Bucky went for a while, at Steve’s urging, but it didn’t last long.”

“But, wait, _Steve_?”

“What, you thought he was flawless or something? All done up in Star spangled perfection?” Sam chuckled.

“Well, yeah. He’s Captain America.”

“Is that the bullshit he’s been feeding you?”

“No, he usually feeds me burgers. I just assumed he had no problems.”

“Let me tell you -”

“Please do. Give me all the dirt on Captain America.” She smiled, and curled up her feet, kicking off her flats.

She still felt heavy on the inside, like the weights had shifted, but some of the dust had dispersed. She felt...she felt like she finally could see what she was dealing with. It wasn’t where she wanted to be, but, maybe, just maybe, she was on her way of getting there.


	10. Chapter 10

Tony placed his feet on top of the table, and settled comfortably into the chair. Steve was flipping through some newspaper, making disgruntled noises every few minutes or so. Natasha was setting out her blades, measuring the edges, sitting next to Steve. The common room was frequented and open to all of the team. And often full with any and all of the Avengers team and their people.

Although it was unusually quiet for a Sunday morning, the center table devoid of mechanical tools, incomplete sections of various newspapers, and half drunk mugs of coffee. Several breakfast dishes were laid in a neat row on a nearby steel counter top. The room took up half a floor, and contained several flat screen televisions that always happened to be on simultaneously, but none with sound. The day was heavy and gray around them, the clouds lingering low, the chill kept at bay by the windows. September had crept up on them all, and now snuck its dampness around New York City quietly.

“Hey, that smells good. Is today muffin day?” Tony perked up as Clint walked through the door. Clint was munching on one warm blueberry muffin, another in his hand. Thor had two in one hand, and a whole one in his mouth.

Clint shook his head. He pointed at Thor with his thumb, “these were ‘I’m-sorry-I-kicked-you-through-a-door slash hit-you-with-dumbbells’ muffins from Oriana.”

Tony pouted, and Steve glanced up briefly.

“Good, I can finally get my kitchen back.” he grumbled, taking a long sip of coffee. “I’ve had at least three different muffin recipes in the last four days, and Bucky won’t emerge from his room anymore.”

“I feel for you, really. Home made muffins must be the epitome of evil.” he shot a quick glare at Captain America, who still leisurely read his paper, before looking towards the muffins once more. “I want one.”

“Nah- _uh_ ,” Clint said through a mouth full of muffin, “these are mine.” Natasha glanced up, and then back towards her weapons, deciding there was nothing worth fretting over here. Thor happily threw the last of his muffins into his mouth, smiling around his full cheeks.

“How come I don’t get any? She decimated my gym room.” He leaned forward, removing his feet from the table. “This is an injustice.”

“I think decimated is a bit strong of a word, Tony,” Pepper pacified, kissing his cheek as she walked barefoot over to the double door stainless steel refrigerator.

“But still, muffins.” he told her, standing up. “I want some.”

“Tony, leave her alone.” Steve warned, eyeing him over the edge of the paper.

“They are _delicious_. Too bad, Tony.” Clint plopped into a chair next to Natasha, who gave him look that told him she was not going to be responsible for what he just started.

“That’s it.” Tony marched over to the elevator, “I want answers!” He waved his pen around the air.

Steve shot up, suddenly looking very worried. “Tony, she -”

But Tony ignored the warning as the doors shut out Captain America and whatever he had to say. “Jarvis?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Is Oriana in Cap’s apartment?”

“Yes, sir. She is currently alone.”

“Good. No Bucky interference.” Tony mumbled to himself as he stepped into the hallway, and from the hallway, opened the door to Cap’s homey little apartment.

“Ms. Muffin lady?” Tony called out. He heard a utensil clatter to the floor, and Tony suddenly found himself staring at the girl. He hadn’t seen her much since the first initial days, and well, he thoroughly read through her complete file. Seen her pictures.

Yet she looked differently, her body...firmer. And smaller. She was smaller than he expected her to be. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore a loose tank top with the Ravens logo plastered across her chest.

“Oh...um, hi, Mr. Stark.”

He waved that away, “God, no. That was my father. Tony please. I’m not that old.” he sniffed his way to the kichen, which was, surprisingly, clean. A pile of wet dishes sat in a rack next to the sink. Bowls and spoons and muffin trays.

“Oh, uh, okay.” she answered, moving herself around the island. He watched her go.

“I hear you’ve been baking things.” he ventured, peering into the oven. “But the thing is, none of it has made its way up to my apartment.”

She shifted uneasily, and began to chew her lip. “I have some here.” she cleared her throat, and spoke more strongly, “if you want some.”

“Duh.” Tony looked around the apartment, Steve had been careful about guests since she moved in with him. He mentioned something about people making her nervous. Had to be all that time she spent with tall, dark, and broody. Bucky wasn’t great company for anyone. Even Steve couldn’t deal with him all the time.

She opened a glass container, and pushed it towards Tony, who selected the biggest, blueberriest one, and peeled off the paper. It was cleaner than he imagined in here, and an open CD case of DVDs lay sprawled on the coffee table, along with several books. He bit into the soft muffin, and completely sided with Barton and not sharing. He wouldn’t share these either.

“If I fire the SHIELD chef, will you take her place? I will pay you to bake these for me every day for the rest of my life. If you think I’m joking, ask Pepper. She knows.”

He swiped another muffin, and she doesn’t stop him. She leans heavily on the door frame, watching him, remaining out of reach. “I baked some for you...” she looked down at the floor, then back at him, following his back as he wandered around the living room, “but I didn’t know where your apartment was.”

Tony paused, “You don’t? I thought everybody knew.”

She shrugged slowly. “I don’t get out much.”

“Didn’t Cap give you the tour?” Tony snagged another muffin, and polished it off fairly quickly. She shook her head slowly.

“Bucky pointed a few places out to me.”

Tony shook his head, “Time for the tour.” He held out his hand to her, and wiggled his fingers, “come on, you and me.”

She stiffened a bit, and crossed her arms over her chest. “Uh…okay? Steve can...do it too.”

“Steve’s had over two months to do. Sometimes he forgets these things, you know. Comes with the old age.”

She giggled, and bit her lip. “I’m not...really supposed to leave without Steve or Bucky with me, though.”

“Says who? This is my tower. I can do what I want. Now come on, Ellen’s on at four and I don’t want to miss it.”

She tentatively walked over to him, and he held out his arm to her, with shy smile, she looped her arms through his, and he lead her out the door.

~~~

Steve paced the living room, and dove a hand through his hair. Thor tried persuading him to leave Tony to it, that the Man of Iron only wished to ask her a question. By the time he made it to his apartment, she was gone, and Jarvis refused to run a scan under direct orders from Tony.

When Bucky snuck back in from his time at the gym, his eyes went flat and dark. Oriana wasn’t missing...she was with Tony. And Steve wasn’t sure which was worse.

So, when the front door opened, Steve rushed into the hallway, only to be beaten by Bucky. And shockingly to everyone, he reached out and touched her shoulder. Her laughter and smile was wide and bright.

“Did you know that there is a rock climbing gym?” she chirped at Bucky, who happened to dominate her line of sight. “ _And_  a library!” she clapped her hands together. He raised an eyebrow, and shot Tony a look, who only managed to seem smug and proud of himself.

“And when you go to Tony’s lab next week for your arm thing, can I come? Tony said I could only see his lab if you came with me, and that you have an appointment next week, so can I come with you? I promise I won’t touch anything.”

Bucky looked confused, and the fingers of his metal arm clenched into a fist, then released. He shot a look in Tony’s direction.

“Why?” he growled. Her spike of happiness refused to be dulled.

“Well, I need a chaperone.” she smiled, and did a little hop. “If you’re there, I can tinker with the extra parts of the Iron Man suit.”

“Please, Bucky?” He rolled his eyes at her. Steve watched the exchange closely.

“You cannot steal anything.” he narrowed his eyes at her.

“Theft is not the problem, Bucky,” Tony interrupted, needing to butt into the conversation. “It’s more her strength and, well, unease around anything that moves fast. I don’t need another gym incident in my lab.”

Now, Oriana rolled her eyes. And on instinct, she grabbed one of Bucky’s fingers, and tugged gently. Steve and Tony snapped towards the gesture, but Bucky sighed.

“Fine. No stealing.”

“I don’t steal things. I just forget to put them back.” she sighed, letting go of him. Her face was bright, and then she pulled back from Bucky, and took a book from under Tony’s arm. Tony’s smirk grew wider. Then her smile stretched even further,

“And look!” she held up a book on aerodynamics. “Tony said he would teach me how to fly a helicopter!”

“WHAT?!” Steve and Bucky bellowed in unison, while she clutched the book to her chest, smiling gleefully. Tony turned and ran, both super soldiers close on his heels.


	11. Chapter 11

Bucky rummaged through his closet, fingers picking through the hangers rapidly. He grumbled as his search procured no results. 

“Bucky, are you coming?” Steve called from the hallway. Bucky pushed his way out of his room, and prowled into the kitchen, past the eating area, and the front hall. His hair was messily pulled back, and his V-neck shirt rippled over his shoulders. His motorcycle gloves were already on his hands. 

“What are you looking for?” Steve poked his hand around the corner of the kitchen, brown leather jacket on, simple jeans, and his favorite beat up white chucks. 

“My jacket.” he mumbled, lifting up blankets on the couch, throwing back as his frustration grew. 

“Not in the coat closet?” Steve offered helpfully. Bucky glared at him.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” he replied, “Because why would I look for my coat in the _coat closet._ ” 

Steve raised his hands, and turned around. “Ask Oriana.” he called behind him. “I’ll be at the garage.” 

Bucky straightened, and went down the hall. He knocked on her door. No reply. He opened it anyway, and found it empty. She usually didn’t go anywhere after her visits. They took too much from her, but there had been improvement. At least it worked for her. 

“Oriana?” he called out, jogging into the kitchen, the living room again, and went towards the patio. He opened the thick sliding glass door, and stepped out into the bright but chilly September afternoon. 

She was curled up in one of the metal chairs, head tilted at an uncomfortable angle, mouth slightly ajar. Her hair was bunched around her neck and face, strands gently moving in the ever constant breeze this high up the building. The sun pooled around her bent knees and feet, shoes tucked under the chair, mismatching socks. One white. One polka dotted. A book lay unheeded on the ground, forgotten in her sleep. 

Bucky picked up the book, some thick tome, _King Hereafter._ Nothing he would ever read, not that he read at all. He dogeared the page, and put next to her shoes. 

His jacket lay wrapped around her, too long in the sleeves, too wide around her body, the collar popped up. He slipped a strand of hair away from her face. “Thief.”


	12. Chapter 12

The secretary breathed a sigh of relief when Karen opened the door, and out emerged Oriana, head bent low, a soggy tissue grasped in her hand. Karen murmured something to her, and the younger woman nodded. He was new, this one. It wasn’t Captain America - because yes, _Captain America_ waited for her sometimes. Who was more than sweet and friendly, chatty almost. He always looped a comforting arm around her shoulders, or surprised her with something like a book. He didn’t always wait the hour or two for her. The other man, Sam, waited, flirted, and asked Lisa about her kids. This dark shadow looming in her office currently hadn’t moved for a good two hours.

“See you next Tuesday, Oriana.” Karen patted her shoulder. Now...that soldier would leave.

The moment Oriana Rossi entered the room with Karen, the dark haired man stood ramrod straight next to the door, arms crossed over his chest, leather jacket and black leather gloves on his hands. He didn’t lean against the door, he didn’t speak. After the initial eye movement, where he scanned her, the desk, the windows, there had been nothing. He didn’t respond to her inquiries to water, or a chair (although there were plenty), his name. Nothing. Just dark, eerie silence.

His eyes remained locked on the door Oriana passed into, and there they watched. As she emerged, there was the slightest -really barely noticeable - softening of his face. Oriana sniffled, and took in a deep breath. When she looked up at him, her body visibly relaxed, but her face remained tight with the tears.

She - Lisa - knew soldiers could be volatile, but this girl didn’t look like a soldier with PTSD. In fact she didn’t look like a soldier at all, especially standing next to the big, hulking statue who waited patiently for her. Sometimes she heard a raised voice, sometimes deep gulping sobs, other times nothing. Whatever it was they talked about, it was traumatic.

“Oriana,” he said, and it was the first Lisa heard him speak. His voice was raspy, rough, with the hint of some Eastern European accent to it, but on the edge.

“Bucky,” her voice caught in her throat, and with a quick lunge, she plowed into his chest, wrapping her arms around him. At first he stood still, arms out to his sides, confused by her affection, or rather, need for it. Then, his arms enclosed around her, even his metal one, and pulled her in tight. Her tears quickly soaked through his cotton shirt, and for a brief moment he considered resting his cheek on top her head, but thought better of it.

“Come, Oriana.” He urged quietly, ignoring the gaping secretary, and disentangled himself from her strong arms. She didn’t speak at all as he lead her to the waiting sedan, one hand on her back, directing her. He opened the car door, and settled her in, tears still streaming down her face, the tissue clutched to shreds in her hand.

When he slipped into the car himself, she was biting her lip, eyes squeezed shut painfully. Her body was shaking. He had never seen the direct aftermath of one of her visits. Sam and Steve mentioned they could be bad, and it left her visibly vulnerable and weary, emotionally spent.

He shrugged out of his black leather jacket, and draped it over her. She barely registered the gesture, but her hands slipped up to grip at the sides, tugging it around her body.

“How -” she gulped, “how do you do it, Bucky?” she rasped, voice hoarse from tears and the sniffles. Bucky dug around the console, and pulled out a box of tissues and shoved them in her direction.

“Do what?” he asked, turning the key, and waiting for the smooth black car to come to life.

“Some days I don’t understand how to live anymore. I’m a freak.” her tears drenched her face, her eyes and nose swelling up, she pulled harshly at a tissue, “I’m not a person, just a faulty weapon. How do you live with it all?”

Bucky put the car in park, and turned towards her. Her knees were up to her chest, her eyes shut. “I feel so disgusted with myself all the time. I hate who I am now.”

“No.” he snapped, his flesh hand came out and touched her hair. It was always so soft, waves that melted underneath his fingertips. Sometimes at night, when they assumed their vigil and she sat next to him, her hair would bunch behind her head and spill across his leg and arm of the chair. It was always so soft.

“You are not their weapon. You never were.” he told her firmly. “ _I_ was the weapon. You are stronger yes, but you never lost your humanity.”

She broke out a sob, “But I killed someone Bucky, I broke the one rule I told myself I wouldn’t break.”

He froze, and then pulled in a breath. He didn’t know that, but as someone who once killed for a living for over fifty years, taking the life of another wore off its novelty. Snuffing out someone’s life was as easy for him as switching off the lights in the kitchen. It took no thought. He barely remembered his kills as a Hydra assassin. He had no desire to relive that time, but he also understand the gravity of it.

“Tiffany Lopez. We were cell mates.” she sniffed, quietly, “and...and she wasn’t reacting to the formula in the way they wanted. They beat her. So badly, to the brink. Her body just...just couldn’t stand up to them like mine could. I healed faster, they refused to give her food, like starving her body would make it suddenly transform into the super soldier they wanted it to.”

She tugged at the jacket, “one day....they just, god, I can’t....” she shuddered, and looked up. “When they dropped her back in the cell, I thought she was already dead. But she wasn’t. She was bleeding, she was so utterly broken beyond repair. I screamed and screamed for a medic. But no one came.” She curled further into herself, and her brows came over her eyes, “I spent hours with her, trying to bandage her body, to help her, she couldn’t speak at first, and just kind of drifted in and out of consciousness. Then she asked me to kill her. It was the last thing she ever said on this earth. ‘Kill me.’” And then she looked up at Bucky,

“And I did.”

Bucky felt something inside him tightened, stiffen at the pain of her words, to be so affected by death. She wasn’t a soldier like Steve who recognized death as collateral damage, or even him who found it a necessary means to an end sometimes. The weight of this action settled on her like a mantle of steel, and he wanted to take it all away from her, dust off her pain, push her into the sunlight where he belonged. She was no Hydra lackey, she was no assassin, no soldier.

“ _Oh my little sparrow_ ,” he murmured in Russian, he leaned over, his arm wrapping around her shoulders, nudging her closer to him, “This was not your fault, you...saved her from a greater pain.”

She nodded, limping leaning her forehead against him. “You are stronger than you think, Oriana. Although these memories hurt you, Hydra wanted to burn everything from inside you, leaving you blank.”

He wanted to tell her how full of life she was, how much she still had, but had no words for such things. He wanted to tell her how thankful he was that they did not destroy her, that she still was the same woman, but only stronger, but more than just her body. Yet he had no way of telling her these thoughts.

“You didn’t let them.”

“No, I didn’t.” she replied, pressing further into his simple embrace. “I just don’t know...who I am. How to deal with these memories. I’m scared of myself, frightened of what I can do now. And how to cope with it all.” Her voice was more even now, but still raspy from the tears. “How do you do it, Bucky?”

He pulled away, and looked into her eyes, as dark and glossy with tears as they were, “I have no memories, Oriana. Weapons don’t have them.”

And with that, he put the car in reverse, and began to drive. She didn’t respond, but remained silent for the rest of the drive. Oriana kept the jacket on throughout the ride, and gazed blindly out the window. When they pulled into the Stark Tower garage, and turned to him, suddenly frantic,

“I- I can’t face Steve right now.”

He looked her up and down, “You’re right. You look terrible, might give the old man a heart attack.” Bucky gave her a small lopsided grin. She gave him one of her infamous looks, and gently pushed his arm.

“Funny.”

“I have an idea.”

“Can I keep the jacket?” she asked quickly. Bucky shot her a look over his shoulder as he exited the car.

“Give it back tonight.” he ordered.

“Cool,” she answered, shutting the door behind her and letting Bucky once again lead the way. He ushered her into the elevator, pressed a few buttons, and in a minute or two, they exited onto the quiet and empty common room. She obediantly followed him, remaining silent, which he knew was an ominous sign.

He went down some stairs, past a few SHIELD agents who gave them a wide berth, and found himself knocking on the door to Banner’s apartment. When Bruce answered, he didn’t comment but only raised an eyebrow in question.

“Hello, Dr. Banner.” Bucky nodded to the other man, and Oriana gave him a weak wave.

“Barnes. What can I do for you?” Bruce glanced quickly at the small girl at his side. He had heard of her, the tiny fractured woman they saved from a Hydra compound almost three months ago now. But she mostly hid in Steve’s apartment, although Tony recently begun to speak about her. She stood behind Bucky, and he half shielded her from view.

“Are you and Tony still thinking of building a potato launcher?” Bucky could sense her intrigue as soon as the words left his mouth. She pressed forward, one hand grazing his bare arm. Bruce glanced at the young woman, who obviously spent a great deal of time crying recently. She rubbed an eye with the back of her hand, the overly large jacket sleeve bunching around her elbow.

“Hell yes we are!” Tony’s voice came over a speaker somewhere, and all three of them -confused - looked towards the cieling.

“Come to my lab, pronto.” the disembodied voice commanded, and with an excited tug of his metal hand, Oriana dragged him towards the elevator, with a bemused and curious Banner in tow.


	13. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bit of a sad chapter, could be a trigger.

She was frantic, terrified, her body burning and screaming, her heart trying to rip out of her chest. She was back. She was back in Hydra’s hands. They were clawing at her, peeling away her skin to look at what was underneath it. Needles sank into her arms, scratching against the bone as straps and hands pinned her down.

She pushed against them, she strained her arms and neck trying to lift herself from the gurney she was tied to. It was dark around her, she couldn’t see, hands probed at her lips, her breasts, her thighs. Laughter and harsh German voices echoed in her ears, their wet lips pressed against her neck.

“No! No!” She shrieked, struggling against her bonds, her skin on fire, crackling like embers in a fireplace, sparks lifting from her to drift in the heated air over her. She coughed viscously, smelling the smoke as it clogged her nose and leaked into her mouth. They pawed at her, whispering, yelling, laughing. She arched her back, twisted painfully to avoid them. She could sense them, they were here, they had recaptured her. They had, they had.

“Noooo....” Oriana wailed, as something clawed at her face, she felt the blood leak down her forehead, dribbled into her mouth as she screamed, unable to push them away, unable to stop them as they tested her, touched her, prodded her. She was theirs. Their weapon, didn’t she understand? She would kill, she would give in, eventually. She had no choice.

She was theirs. All theirs.

For them to do as they wished. She couldn’t breathe anymore, her nails dug into her palm as she thrashed half heartedly, pinned, caged like an animal. They would strip her down to that. No more, suck the last inch of humanity from her, bring her down, way down, into the very pits of depravity. She would cave in, she would give in....

She would kill. She would do it. Her scream fell into a pitiful wail as something grabbed her slender wrists.

“Oriana! Oriana!” her name was shouted, cracking through the nightmare like a bullet through a window. She yelped again as she sat up, and she kicked out, pushing herself to the head of her bed, slamming her back into the wall. She was trembling, her body quaking with the adrenaline swarming her system. Sweat was dripping down her spine, her neck, between her breasts.

Bucky was in the doorway, a hand gun in his metal hand, he was shirtless and long hair a mess. Steve knelt on the bed, wearing striped pajama bottoms and an Avengers shirt. She gulped in air, and her eyes bounced between everything. She panted like a dog, her lips drying with each inhale.

“Oriana?” Steve asked tentatively, reaching out and brushing his fingers against her arm. She clutched her knees to her chest, and winced when he touched her. Everything was stuck, the fear beat down anything remotely human in her. She just looked at him, trying to tell him with her eyes that she was too scared, too terrified, too...too inhuman at the moment to make any decision.

She could feel the sobs slugging up her throat, crawling along her esophagus, squeezing her vocal cords. Her chest heaved, and when Bucky moved further into the room, her eyes darted to his.

“Oriana, it’s Steve and Bucky...” Steve told her, and she wanted to nod, but could only watch them.

“It was only a nightmare, Oriana,” Steve continued, trying to get her to focus on him. He looked too large on her bed, too imposing, his blonde hair perfect even bed rumpled. Something immobilized her.

“Oh...” she choked, “god...” Oriana fought to keep the sob down, so it released in a tiny whimpering squeak.

“Oriana,” Steve sighed deeply, and the pain was audible to her. The bed shifted again as Bucky sat down. She heard a safety click on, but she squeezed her eyes shut, blocking out darkness with darkness.

She felt his hand as it swept over her head, smoothing away the crazed, tangled hair. He pushed it back from her face, and just as smoothly his arm shifted over her shoulders. He moved closer to her, and she unfolded herself just barely enough to be enfolded by Bucky. Steve nudged closer to them, and she slipped one hand into his large one. Her tears mingled with the sweat, and her body shook until there was nothing left inside her, expect her nightmare dimly flashing through her mind.

Neither Bucky or Steve tried to speak to her again, but when Steve shifted,

“Don’t go...” she squawked, “stay, please.”

And they both did, wrapping themselves in blankets, but remaining awake and silent in the dark until the city lights blended with the rising sun.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aunt Flow comes for a visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be too much for some, but I think its a bit funny.

Oriana felt like such a schoolgirl: knees pushed together, feet wide apart, hands pressed between her hot thighs. She bit her lip, and closed her eyes, the tile of the bathroom chilled beneath her. She avoided looking in the mirror at her messy appearance. “This can’t be happening,” she moaned softly, before peering down at her exercise shorts. Yep. It was happening.

When Steve heard his name, it was hushed and soft, and at first, he thought he was just imagining things. But whatever whispering voice it was, it was persistent. He poked his head around the corner, and saw Oriana peaking around the bathroom door. She was worrying her lip, and she flushed when she saw him.

“C’mere...” she urged, but Steve hesitated. What did she want? In the bathroom.

“what is it?” he asked her in a whisper, still remaining where he was.

“Will you just come. here.” she barked, her voice still low, and her eyes shot quickly down the hallway. “I need a favor.”

Steve balked, and narrowed his eyes. “What kind of favor.”

“Please, Steve...I, uh,” she shifted back and forth quickly, rolled her eyes and shut the door. He was intrigued, for sure.

“Oriana?” he knocked on the door. She opened it a sliver, and bit her lip,

“what is it?” he asked.

“I, uh, Steve I just got my period.” she rushed.

Steve stood in stunned silence for a moment. “Oh...um,” he gulped, “right?” He glanced down at Bucky’s door, and then back at her. She looked sullen and grumpy and a little frightened.

“Didn’t the doctor say that wasn’t going to happen?” he asked her, trying to focus. He had never talked about this sort of...lady thing.

“Never mind that. I really need a tampon or something, anything, until I can go to a CVS.”

“Right.” He didn’t move.

“Steve we don’t have anything and I am not using anymore toilet paper.” She crossed her legs tightly, and swayed.

“So, can you go ask Pepper or Darcy or any one of the women in this building for one.” “

Yes. Yes, I can do that.” He nodded numbly, and she smiled gratefully.

“Thank you! I’ll be here.” She went to close the door.

“In the bathroom?” he asked her, catching the knob.

“Well yeah. I’m not actually about to sit on a bucket in my bedroom.”

Steve stumbled back, “alright, alright, you win, I’ll go get you...a thing.”

Her cackle was lighthearted as she shut the door.

~~

Oriana fiddled as she paced the bathroom, grimacing at the sound of Charmin Ultra. Ugh. What was this? Hydra made certain breeding was not going to be a problem for her. The doctors told her their was so much uterine damage she would never have a period again, let alone children.

And then earlier, she went for a jog. Run of the mill routine here. She ignored the cramping in her stomach. Her body did weird things. It wanted food constantly. She didn’t sleep well. Headaches were a thing.

She was running on a treadmill, middle of the day, quiet. She felt something sticky on her thigh, she glanced down and saw a sliver of red. Wait. She wasn’t wearing red anything. When she slipped into the locker room, it was only a small tiny thing. She almost screamed, but luckily enough, years and years of routine kept her together enough for her to power walk back to the apartment and into the bathroom. By the time she got there, she had a nice heavy flow going.

Gross. Grossssss. grossgrossgross.

And of course there was nothing. Why would there be? She was never expecting to have another visit from Aunt Flow ever again. And now here she was, stuck in the bathroom and fighting the urge to cry. But now she didn’t know if it was hormones or some sort of relief or fear. What was her body up to now?

There was a soft knock.

“Hey, Oriana, it’s Darcy with a pint of Ben and Jerry’s and a box of Tampax Pearl.”

Oriana almost wept with relief. She cracked open the door, “Thank you -”

Instead there was a whole host of women outside for her. Darcy smiled and pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. “I maybe brought some friends.”

Doc Jane stopped forward, offering a small baggie of various tampons, “I also have these for you.”

Pepper, prim and neat and proper, smiled and held up three chick flick movies and popcorn, “I find these always help me.”

Natasha leaned against the wall opposite, and her smile was rueful, she tossed a box towards Oriana, who caught it automatically without looking. Tampax Sport. “There you go.”

Darcy smiled wide again, “You did the impossible, girl. Now, go change and we reserved the common space for girls day and you can tell us how you managed to get his star spangled boxers in a twist. I’ve never seen Captain _America_ so flustered.”

The women gave her a smile and still were waiting when Oriana emerged a few minutes later in comfier clothing. Darcy put an arm over her shoulder and pulled her in close.

“You know, I lost five bucks because of you.”

Doc Jane came to her other side, “Darcy said you didn’t exist.”

Oriana chuckled, paused, poked her stomach, “Nah, not a hologram just yet.”

“Oh you’re sassy. I like it.” Darcy laughed as the group chirped, giggled, and laughed their way to their Avenger’s common room, which was dreamily set up for a chick flick movie marathon.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some mention of rape. Just a warning.

Oriana fiddled with the hem of her oversized sweater, and took in a deep breath. “There are still...things that bother me.”

“Like getting your period again?”

“Well, yes, but I guess my body has other things to say about that. Sometimes I feel like my body and my brain are two different things. I think one thing, my body does a different thing. My brain was trying to grasp the fact that I was raped, then had my ovaries removed. My body went, ‘whomp, we’ll grow new ones because why the fuck not?’”

Oriana shook her head. Karen nodded. Folded her hands together. Waited.

“Sometimes I think I feel better about all this. Sometimes I’m just too angry that I can barely function. Why me? Why did they choose me?”

“You know why.”

“Well, the logical fact, but this is the existential one. Why did I have to be born with this- this stupid gene? My whole life was ruined, and I don’t even know where to start to rebuild.” Karen tapped a pen on her pad.

“What about Bucky and Steve?”

“What about them?”

“Are they good places for a foundation?”

Oriana paused, her mouth twitching with the words that meant to come tumbling out. Yes, what about her boys? Since they were _hers_. Even Tony and Bruce began to fit into her puzzle. Tony snuck her down to her lab for chemistry and physics lessons where they made alchemic concoctions that exploded and Bruce gave her textbooks to read. He quizzed her.

Tony - occasionally but not often accompanied by Clint - had to extra sneakily bring her to the helo pad to give her piloting lessons, sometimes accompanied with actual aerodynamics instruction. The third lesson in, Bucky found them both, ripped off the door with his metal arm, and almost by the scruff of her neck dragged her back into the apartment, where both Bucky and Steve lectured her on ‘how could she even think she was ready to learn to fly a SHIELD jet let alone be taught by Tony Stark of all people, dear god he could have killed you’. And by lecture, Bucky ranted and Steve tried not to laugh.

She did begin to search out Jane, who she chatted with about astrophysics, and occasionally Darcy when she needed a good fix on pop culture. She was fitting in with them, well some of them. Especially Bucky. And Steve. Her boys.

“They both...help with stuff.”

“Stuff?”

“Well, you know, Steve and I have breakfast every morning. And then Bucky, Steve, and I train together.”

Karen rose an eyebrow, and Oriana sighed dramatically. “Bucky and I watch movies, and sometimes he comes to the library with me. Even though I don’t need a chaparone anymore.”

“He goes to the library with you?”

Oriana shurgged, “yeah, when I’m in a good mood I let him choose the book, well, okay sometimes he just picks a book. I read it and then I tell him about it.” Oriana grew pensive for a moment, “Bucky just listens to me. About anything.”

“He does?” Karen prompted.

Oriana gave a small smile, “he does.”

Karen nodded again and wrote something on her yellow pad, and Oriana took in a deep breath. She liked Karen, Karen was easy to talk to, even it was the difficult stuff, and it was always the difficult stuff.

When she left the office, feeling a little bit brighter than she did before, she was surprised to see Sam. Oriana perked up, and stuffed her hands into her backs, annoyed at how small they were.

“Hey Sam,” she waved to Lisa, who just looked relieved at the absence of Bucky. Lisa and Bucky didn’t get along. Sam lifted a hand to Karen, and then clapped Oriana on her shoudler.

“Bucky and Steve got called on a mission. I’m on chauffeur duty today. So Pete’s Ice Cream or Guiseppe’s gelato on the way home? Because I’m feeling either one right now.”

“A mission?” Oriana stamped down the curiosity and panic that began to stir in her stomach. Bucky and Steve on a mission. Only once since they resuced her had Steve left to go on a mission of some sort. Bucky stayed with her. She fretted the whole time, sweating and pacing, just an unknown terror rooted in her gut until Steve came back. It was the first time she willingly touched anyone since she entered Stark Tower. She hugged him. Now both were leaving?

“What’s the mission?”

“You know I can’t tell you.” Sam eyed her warily. Oriana made a wry face, and leaned her head towards her shoulder.

“Can we make it to Stark Tower before they leave?”

“We can try!” Sam laughed, and they were out of the parking garage in record time.

_____________

Oriana ran through the locker room, not really knowing why her heart was frantic. Sam, being the fine gentleman he was, sped through New York traffic like he was a yellow taxi just after shift end. She tapped her foot through the ride, until Sam laid a gentle hand on her knee.

She just...just wanted to see them off. See them safely off. That was all. They were coming back. It was quieter here, just the soft murmur of voices, the creak of shifting leather. Some faint laughter. When she peered around the corner, Thor and Bucky were waiting, leaning against the far wall.

She hadn’t seen him - Bucky - in uniform, she barely remembered the night he rescued her. She didn’t...remember it, just fuzzy phantom mirages in her head about burning pain and the smell of burnt flesh, singed hair. His hair was pulled back, tight bun, and he was dressed all in leather, black leather to be precise. Tough black boots - each with a knife tucked in. Black cargo pants, three more knives, two hand guns for each thigh. A black leather jacket, but with only one sleeve. His metal arm was in full view, a riding glove covering the metal fingers. He held a black mouth mask in one hand, a large rifle strapped to his back. She had never seen him like this.

He looked grim, but gave a soft nod at something Thor said.

“Oriana, here to wish us good luck?” Steve’s voice boomed around her, and she wanted to cringe. Bucky’s eyes went from the ground to hers, and for a fleeting moment, smiled.

“uh,” she gulped, “yes.” She stood up a little straighter, and nodded. “Yeah, just wanted to wish you luck and all that.”

Steve gave her a knowing look, and she patted him awkwardly on the arm. “Go do your thang, Cap.” she waved at Thor and Bucky, and Tony who clanked his way into the room, “You too.”

She stiffened with embarrassment, suddenly unsure as to why she was here. Why was she doing this thing? It was silly and childish, to run to them, a frightened dog with a tail between her legs. She could survive without them for however long. She was a big girl. And frankly, people should be afraid of her. She was the super soldier after all. She gave them a quick wave, and walked out.

___________

It was precisely four days, thirteen hours, and twenty four minutes until the mission was complete and Steve followed by Bucky walked through the apartment door. What the two weary soldiers were not expecting was to be greeted by another missile, who happened to launch herself at them before they took two steps in. Her arms and legs wrapped around Bucky and she let out a great, big sigh, and then began speaking:

“I missed you two so much, and you didn’t call or anything and I worried the whole time, i mean what if you died. I baked muffins and lasagna and I read six books and I had a whole cup of tea and maybe some coffee because I missed you and couldn’t sleep and Bruce wouldn’t let me near the helicopter. You look tired. And are you hurt? did everything go okay? tell me everything, unless its classified then tell me in sign language because I want to know. and god, couldn’t you call?!”

Bucky began laughing, and Steve looked a little shell shocked, but then one tiny toned arm snapped out and wrapped itself around Steve’s neck.

“Next time you call me okay?” she mumbled, arms tightening around Steve and Bucky’s necks. Bucky’s metal arm went around Steve’s shoulders, and his flesh arm around Oriana’s waist.

“This would be a bad time to tell her how you flew a plane into a concrete building?” Bucky asked innocently.

"YOU FUCKING DID WHAT?” Steve shot Bucky a look, but Bucky was too busy holding a hand over Oriana’s mouth and her body still as she angrily shook her hand at Steve, over wrought at his recklessness.


	16. Chapter 16

Sometimes, in the most brilliant of moments, our fate is decided for us, and we, mere mortals, have naught to do but follow its path. 

 

Oriana pressed her hands into the glass and watched as only mere blocks away, New York flipped into chaos as easily as she switched on the oven. It seemed, the mission, only three days prior, had some....repercussions. Such as the current alien horde playing demolition derby in NYC.

Stark Tower, being what it was, remained safely tucked behind a rippling, blueish barrier that was of Tony’s design. As much as it kept those things out, it kept everyone else in. 

 

“Ma’am, I suggest moving away from the glass.” It was her babysitter, some anonymous SHIELD agent, who felt just as comfortable as she did being in the same room with her. Which was not at all. 

 

Orian didn’t bother responding. Bucky was out there. Steve was out there. After ordering her to stay put, they suited up and were out saving the world in a matter of minutes. Leaving her behind to watch as they were beaten farther back. 

 

The lights flickered. Again. 

 

The glow of the force field seemed to dim, and something caught in Oriana’s throat. She remembered watching a car crash, and the way her stomach flipped, summersaulting in her gut right before the two cars hit, was the way she felt now. Body tight, and feeling sick, knowing something awful was happening and not being able to avert her eyes. 

 

“Ma’am...”

 

“I swear to god if you ‘ma’am’ me one more time, I will tie you to the chair and gag you.” 

 

Her breath puffed against the glass, leaving the shrinking spot of steam. Something - or someone - just fell into a building. Stark Tower vibrated. The lights flickered. The forcefield wavered. 

 

She watched as more aliens poured over buildings, sending missiles through windows. Strange two legged creatures bounded easily over cars, grabbing bystanders, ripping out lamp posts. Along the buildings adjacent to Stark Tower she watched as more of those yellow skinned freaks gathered. Along the roof tops, the streets, into buildings, they began to assemble, gathering in groups.

 

Something...something was being erected, some machine. Prongs plunged into the concrete, yellow aliens crawled around it, fighting off agents or Avengers that came too near. Although she could not hear it, she saw it begin to whirl, gaining speed with each second. Lightening sparked, cracked from the spinning gears. One by one the lights went out along the street, heading towards Stark tower.

“We’re gonna have a problem.” she didn’t bother to to look at the SHIELD agent, she turned around and began striding towards the door. Her face, once illuminated by the blue field around, went dark, as the power went out, and it all went to hell. 

 


	17. Chapter 17

Oriana was tugging on her black leather jacket, courtesy of Steve and Bucky in hopes she would desist in stealing Bucky’s when he wasn’t looking. It was only borrowing, really. And it hadn't worked, even though this new jacket looked hella fine on her, in her own opinion.

Darcy and Jane sat before a massive switch board and screen panel, Jane barking orders. Fingers flying over the buttons of the computer system, mouth moving quickly as she switched between yelling and muttering to herself.

“Ma’am, stop, stop right there!” her babysitter snapped, and then made the utterly moronic decision of grabbing onto Oriana’s arm. She spun around, and attaching her hand to his throat, she shoved him into a wall. Oriana was aware that room went silent, that suddenly the orders were hushed, but her anger was precise and narrowed in on the idiot currently at her mercy.

“What did I say about calling me ‘ma’am’?” She hmmed, and tilted her head. “Right now, people need my help, so you _will_ stop your pathetic attempt at preventing me from doing so. I could snap your neck with a muscle twitch _so stop trying to control me_.”

She released him and ignored the body that crumpled to the floor, gasping for air. Darcy’s mouth hung open unflatteringly, and she stared wide eyed at Oriana, who tugged on her jacket again. She knew she must look a bit strange, leather jacket, black tank tucked into her toughest jeans she could fine. Combat boots. Her hair was tightly braided and hung down her back. She looked more motorcycle chick than Avenger but hey, this is what she had to work with.

“So Jane, I think I know what they’re doing.” Oriana began, leveling her gaze at Jane, who squinted at her. She knew she broke whatever she was forming with them. Oriana's rash action with the guard just sent the seed of doubt into Jane's head, she could see it in the scientist's eyes. Her cool, distant demeanor was not helping with that, but right now...right now she made her choice. She was going to go out and help the Avengers. She had the strength, now it was time for her to do something with that besides push ups.

“They’re using electricity as a means to regenerate and power themselves.” Jane answered coolly, keeping her eyes on Oriana, who nodded.

“Good, we’re on the same page then. I have an idea. I’m going to need your help.”

“You’re not cleared to go out there, Oriana.” Jane interjected, and Darcy, took one step backwards, moving away from her boss. Oriana registered the movement, but made no comment.

“I’ll go out there, get Thor to do his thing, and come right back.”

Jane barely blinked, knowing Oriana’s words were a lie, because nothing was ever that simple.

“What are you thinking?” Jane finally asked. The breath they didn’t know they were holding was released, and Oriana strode over, steps firm and long. She pointed to the enlarged image of the alien machine sitting four blocks north of the building.

“I’ve mapped out what seems to be their regeneration period. Electricity is their juice, each soldier is slowly coming towards this spot, clicking something into this, and then leaving. Once they’ve clocked in, they’re contacted and using the endless supply of electricity from New York to keep themselves going. Think caffeine IV. They seem to pull more energy after about an hour.” Oriana paused, and then tapped a shot of Stark Tower, Jane nodded, following her.

“The arc reactor in our basement is like the ultimate five hour energy for them, since they have hacked into this, they don’t need to come back and keep getting refills.”

“So what, we should just shut it down? Half the city would loose power and so would Tony.” Darcy added, finally inching towards the two figures hunched towards the screens.

“Exactly.” Oriana clicked a few buttons. “We need to overdose them.” Jane’s eyes widened as she came to understand Oriana’s meaning.

“I’m suggesting we shut it down briefly - Jane can you hack into the city’s mainframe from here? You can, good - anyway, shut everything down, and then boost it all at once, with a little help from Thor. I say we give them the biggest sugar high they can imagine. While the electricity is down, we’ll destroy that damned machine so they can’t keep pulling from us. When they come down from that energy high, we can overrun them.”

“You mean the Avengers can do that.” Oriana’s mouth twitched, but she acquiesced.

“It’s a gamble.” Jane murmured, Oriana leaned her elbows down on the control panel. It took all of three seconds of Jane watching the havoc spinning outside the building before she turned to Oriana.

“I will radio this to Cap and Tony, you get to Thor, you come back, do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“You come right back!” Jane yelled as Oriana bounded through the door and disappeared. Jane sighed deeply, glanced at Darcy, who only shrugged.

“I told you she hangs out with Tall, dark, and broody too much.”


	18. Chapter 18

Oriana tried to keep her breathing even, just like Bucky taught her, but the adrenaline shot through her veins like a sunburst, and her legs began trembling, the skin pulled taunt, with her body overwhelming desire to run. The leather felt too hot against her skin, and she was itching, itching to run and feel the freedom. The first time she had left Stark Tower, but really, she had never been out in the sunshine. From one parking garage to another didn’t count. 

Here she was, on her very own, in the face of destruction that she had never seen but in those silly action movies she used to watch with friends. She alone, well and truly, alone. 

As she stepped into the murky sunlight, she walked into chaos and anarchy. There were too many sounds to register at once, and it pulled her attention in all different directions. She...she had never actually been in a real battle before, and it was...nosier than she ever imagined. Burnt strips of paper fluttered around her, smoke rose from wrecked cars. 

Suddenly the adrenaline dropped from her, and she stood lamely in the middle of a cracked and pitted street, just staring. Her body rooted itself, feet become stones she was too tired to lift. Her breath was gone. 

It was mayhem, the fear a tangible odor drifting among the smoke and smell of gas and burnt asphalt. Someone grabbed her hand, and tugged, 

“Come on...come on!” a strange, horrified woman screamed at Oriana, but sound seemed too far away. She removed her hand from the odd, sweaty grip, and her hand went to the kitchen knife she desperately grabbed on her way to Jane. 

“No.” she responded firmly, her gaze returning to the fight before her, watching as one of those alien yellow creatures began crawling over towards them. “I’m an Avenger.” She winked at the woman, who wasted no more time and ran down to a subway for cover. 

For the life of her, she did not know _why_ she said what she did, but she pulled the knife from its makeshift holder, spun it in her fingers, and smiled. 

Gone was the fear. Gone was the nervousness, the stones in her blood, gone was the worry and the fret. A smooth calmness clicked into place, like the safety of gun being pulled off. She barely felt the road beneath her booted feet as she began jogging towards the yellowed skinned freak, and the weight of the knife between her fingers keeping her focused and calm. 

This was what she was trained for. Why she was made. To do this. To fight. To kill. But now to protect. She vaguely heard voices, far off screams, crashes, but all of this was white noise as she focused on the hollering alien. It spotted her, and their eyes locked, their speeds increasing. And you know what they say about two opposing forces. 

Her heart beat wildly in her chest, a storm trapped in her ribcage, and a fury building within her. Something....something that had always been there, an anger that rose within her, a storm, a maelstrom and she was powerless to it. And so when she collided with the alien, the storm took hold of her hands and legs and arms, and she fought like a wolf let loose from its cage, brutally, efficiently. The knife was her claw, and she was fluid as water, untouchable, an angry demon with which there was no mercy. 

The yellow skinned alien was incapacitated within moments, and she barely broke a sweat. She lifted her head towards the thick of the battle, and then glanced down at the prone body she going to leave behind. Efficient. Quick. Mildly painless. 

They wanted her to be a weapon. And so it was. 

But she was going to protect. She had these gifts, she had these powers. Now, she wanted to use them. Use them to be like her heroes, the group of people she used to admire, but had taken her in. Oriana took a steadying breath. She could do this. She _was_ doing this. 

“Oriana?” the voice in her ear drew her attention, her body rigid, poised, ready. 

“Yes, Tony?” she asked, her voice clear over the comm system. 

“ORIANA?!” the voices of Bucky and Steve boomed, and she shook her head in agitation, a knuckle digging at her ear. 

“Jesus Christ, not so loud.” she griped, ducking behind a car for cover. There was nothing in sight, but that doesn’t mean she was alone. 

“Stark, what is she doing? Why is she on the comm system?” Steve growled. 

“Hey, listen up.” Oriana barked, beginning to move forward, towards the fray, towards them. She kept low, ducking between cars, knife gripped loosely yet firmly in her head. 

“Oriana, are you outside?” Steve yelled again, the strain audible in his voice. 

“Now is not the time,” she commanded, knowing she was on the bottom of the food chain here, but needing desperately to listen to her, “these aliens are using Stark Tower and the surrounding electric grid to juice themselves which is why they keep bouncing back so fast. Jane and Pepper in about ten minutes and forty-eight seconds are going to completely shut down Manhattan and Stark Tower for precisely three minutes. During that interval, we need to destroy the conical, whirling machine of death located three blocks from the north side of Stark Tower. We will then power it all up to full capacity simultaneously. We’re going to give them one hell of a five hour energy and then watch them crash and burn.” 

“This plan is risky...”Widow interjected from somewhere. 

“I like it.” Tony affirmed. 

“You guys have anything better?” Oriana snapped peevishly as she ran up a car and used it to jump on the back of one of those two legged fur-human-eating shits. She plunged the knife up into the neck, and used her body weight to swing around, cutting in longer and deeper. It collapsed, taking the knife with it. 

“Shit.” she grumbled. 

“What?” one of them asked over the comm, she took off at a run. 

“Lost my knife.” 

“You had a knife?!” 

“Steve, stop. Where’s Thor? We’re going to need him to juice the Tower when we turn it back on.” She kept her voice level, the annoyance pinned down, she kept her focus clear on moving forward, moving towards the battle. 

“Thor is currently handling a regiment of yellow skinned freaks about nine blocks away from where you need him.” 

“Fuck.” she grumbled, launching herself into a group of aliens, surprising them and snapping the neck of the one closest to her. She grunted as one took hold her arm, and she twisted to catch his leg and find stable ground. She swung her body, using the alien’s as a shield. She wrenched a long, thin spear from the nearest prone body, and immediately plunged into a shrieking yellow fiend. She yelled back in its fanged face, and pulled out the spear. 

“We need Thor.” she panted into the comm system once more. 

“Working on it.” Hawkeye replied. She began running again, when she heard shots coming from her left. She tightened her grip on the odd, too long spear. She legs sped up, the muscles taunt with fear. With energy. Her spirits were up, running high on something more than adrenaline. 

As she rounded the corner, her stomach flipped into her throat. Bucky was prone on the ground, metal arm glinting with the lights that seem to shine everywhere but nowhere. His gun was a few feet away, and he wasn’t moving. 

He _wasn’t_ moving. 

There was fury, there was pain, there was fear, and then there was this all encompassing rage that burned like fire in her as she saw Bucky lying there. They hurt him. _Those bastards hurt him._

A group of five aliens were closing around his unconscious form -that’s why he hadn’t responded over the comm, dear god was she the distraction? - she shook the thought away, and locked eyes on her newest five targets. She shifted the staff, accommodating its weight and length. 

She glanced down, slipping between two cars, knowing she needed to car care with this. All thoughts of finding Thor, of the power grid, of the other battles, the machine feeding these aliens slipped from her mind, washing out of her thoughts like dirt in the shower. Her primary objective now was getting between Bucky and those aliens, and then removing him from danger. She needed to get him out and to safety, and she knew with a clear, crips thought that this was all she wanted to do. 

Save him. She slipped around the car, scuttling like a crab, and with one quick movement, she kicked a open car door off its hinges, grabbed it, and threw herself out from her spot. She drew their attention immediately, and as she jumped over Bucky’s form, lunging with the spear in front of her, ready to kill, the car door held in front of them for protection. 

Like some Amazonian, she stood strong as they attacked, swords and spear jabbing at her, while she deftly battled them away, circling around Bucky, keeping her body and shield in front of him, keeping his body from further harm. She used the door as a battering ram, hitting anything that came too close, stabbing anything that dared to try breach her defenses. 

She barely caught sight of the projectile from her peripheral vision before it hit her. Who knew that bicycles could hurt some much when they collide with you bodily. It knocked her off her feet, and she dropped the spear, but clutched at the door. She barely had time to position the door, when a spear jabbed its way through, sticking into the road. 

Her breath jacked up, but a hand reached up, and grabbed her leg. It yanked her out, but Oriana was prepared. She lashed out with her fist, catching armor, her free foot kicked upwards into its exposed neck. It staggered backwards, and Oriana kicked again. 

A gunshot cracked as it dropped her. Noxious smelling blue blood splattered her face. 

Bucky - shakily mind you - sat up, gun in hand, glaring at her, with the gun muzzle’s pointed at the now dead alien. 

His mask was gone, and she could clearly see the expression on his face, which read death and pain. 

She shrugged, and stood up with more grace than he could muster. He was wounded, how seriously she couldn’t tell and his leg obviously pained him. She made the mistake of stepping too close, and his metal arm whipped out and gripped her a little too hard on her bicep. 

“Bucky -” she began. 

“ _Don’t.”_ he seethed, fingers tightening. “We will talk about this later.” 

“I’m doing what I have to do.” she glared back at him, and wiggled in his grasp. 

Bucky’s mouth turned into a dangerous line, “you’re putting yourself in danger. You almost -” he stopped himself, the words lost. He almost watched her die. 

“I did not save you from Hydra just so you could get yourself killed.” but the words didn’t sound as angry as he wanted them to. She removed herself from his grip, which was no small feat of strength, and took a step away from him. 

“Have some faith in me, Bucky.” her anger hovered beneath the surface, he could see that, it was there, under her eyes. He could see the exhaustion settling in, the adrenaline finally dissipating, and yet she still stood defiantly before him, bruised and a bit battered. Ah, his sparrow. Too strong and stubborn for her own good.  

Her focus was on her objective, which now switched back from its original state, back from Bucky to Thor, finding him and getting him to do his job. Time was of the essence. She needed this work, if only to save New York and earn their trust. 

“Once you get Thor, you go back to Stark Tower.” he ordered. She stepped away from him, both of them knowing she could outrun him if she had to. He wasn’t stopping her unless he shot her. Which was suddenly a tempting idea. 

She swooped up the spear, and pulled it roughly from the ground. She dodged his arm, and gave him a mischievous wink. 

“We’ll see about that.” And with that, she ran off, leaving the Winter Soldier fuming, his finger twitching on the trigger. 

 


	19. Chapter 19

“Goddamn, trigger happy, fuckin’ piece of shit...” Oriana continued to grumble to herself as she powered into the fray, spear in hand. There was a hole in her jacket but nothing more. He was pissed. She was pissed. And she didn’t feel at all guilty when something got her way and she took her frustration out on it. 

Eight down. God only knows how many more. 

She clutched at the spear, and in a blink, whirled around and stuck two aliens, turning them into pin cushions. 

“Not in the mood.” she snarled, ripping the spear out and returning to her run. 

“Alright, we have shut down in t-minus ten seconds.” Tony called out over the comm. 

“They will not be happy. Prepare for the worst. Oriana we need you on ground cover. Help bystanders to safety.” Steve ordered. 

For a moment she wanted to argue, but she saw the need for it. Without Bucky, they were down ground control and they needed a replacement. She did her job. Thor was on his way towards the machine and the Tower, technically she should have gone back already. 

Steve got to Thor, explained everything. But she couldn’t stop. She continued on, fighting anything that she came into contact with, ushering the groups of frightened citizens to safer places. 

But Bucky royally peeved her. The goddamn piece of shit shot at her. After she saved his ass. What the ever living fuck. So it was better for everyone involved that she took out her anger on some dumb ass aliens hell bent on destroying New York. 

And then the lights went out. 

If she thought it was mayhem before, it was pure pandemonium afterwards. With only sunlight left, dark places popped up between buildings and the subways were cloaked in shadow. 

“Help us! Help us!” the shriek cut through the other noise. The high pitched calls coming from a blown out building. Oriana ran towards the voices, discovering rumble and a burnt out car through the ground floor windows. An eye became visible. 

“Please, it’s full of smoke, we can’t get out!” a woman called. “We have children trapped in here.” 

Oriana nodded and began to study the nature of the rumble and damaged building. Her fingers groped along the twisted pieces of metal and concrete. They were both hot to the touch and jagged. Even with her strength she was going to be unable to lift away these massive broken pieces. 

She touched her ear, leaving her hand by the small opening, “Tony, where is the Hulk?” 

“Oriana...I told you ground patrol.” Steve barked. Oriana glanced up, watching as both Iron Man and Thor flew overhead towards the Tower. Thunder crackled along the street. 

“ _I am_ on ground patrol. I have an unknown amount of innocents trapped in a smoke filled lobby. No way out, too much rumble for me to clear. Give me the Hulk.” she barked back at him, taking the spear and shoving it between two pieces of concrete. She pulled on it, hoping to create enough leverage to lift off a the car. She yelled with the exertion, putting all her strength into pulling down on the spear. 

“Big and green on your way,” Tony eventually answered, but Oriana already heard the roar before the Hulk smashed down a few feet from her. The impact threw her off her feet, and she landed on her back. Her head smacked down on something hard, and she groaned. The Hulk roared and slammed his fist back down. She rolled on her side, blinking away the haze and the pain. 

When she sat up, she could hear the children screaming and a huge, blockish green face only a few inches into hers. Hot, moist breath blew into her forehead, and her heart began bounding. That’s right. She didn’t know the Hulk. The Hulk didn’t know her. There was a great big chance he would Hulk smash her without a thought in the world. 

Shit. Shiiiiiiit. 

“Uh...” she began, but he snorted again, and one very large, fat finger poked her shoulder. 

“Little sparrow out of nest.” 

She nodded, slowly, and braced her body with her hands on the ground. 

“Little sparrow need Hulk.” 

She nodded with a little more vigor this time. “Yes, there are children trapped. Can you remove the car?” 

She pointed to the husk of an SUV. Hulk hit his chest, and stamped his feet. Doing his Hulk things, and without a care he reached in, grabbed the car, and ripped out like. Pulling a toothpick from a sandwich it was so damned easy for him. 

Oriana, still sitting on her bruised ass, stared at the massive, grandiose display of raw power, and watchting as the car took out three lamp posts and a taxi. She panted, suddenly afraid and unable to move. Hulk snorted before grabbing one of the slabs of concrete and removing that too. It collided with something, but she wasn’t sure what as it went through a building opposite of the street. 

“Jesus Christ.” she mumbled. 

Hulk bent down and one overly large hand patted her head like she was a dog. She whipped her head around, and snapped her teeth at him. 

It was stupid. And then the Hulk smirked and jumped away, grabbing onto a building and busting more ass. 

She shook her head, and got uneasily to her feet. She scrambled up onto the mound before, smoke pouring from the hole, she began coughing, and she backed away, although she could hear the voices beneath her. Digging her nose into her elbow, she used her other hand to rip off the bottom half of her shirt. She wrapped it over her nose and mouth, the acrid smoke still filling her nostrils and staying on her tongue. 

She dove back in, calling out, “I’m here! I’m an Avenger! Give me the children!” 

And suddenly, little crying bodies were shoved into her hands, wriggling and screaming. She didn’t bother trying to hush them, she knew they were scared. 

By the time she retrieved the third, an infant, and turned to hand it down to one of the other children she noticed a gaggle of aliens. Luck - so fortunately - was still on her side, and they hadn’t been noticed. 

Thank. God. 

She ushered the children to a small space by the concrete, and a little more harshly than needed, pushed them into the crawlspace. 

“Shh, shhh...” she put her finger to her lips, but they didn’t quiet down. It was a hopeless cause, and for a brief passing moment, she hoped all the other noises would drown out their cries. Hunched over, she snuck around the corner, and swiped back the spear. 

“Hey, jerk face!” she called out, thinking it better to draw their attention sooner rather than later. It was better they had her to focus on than stumbling on the kids. 

They growled. She growled. And then something jumped on her back, and a shooting hot pain erupted from her side. She fell to her knee, disoriented from the sharpness throbbing at her side. 

Then ducked her head, and with one arm reaching behind her back, she pulled off the alien, and threw him down on the pavement, his head cracking against the curb, quickly followed by her spear through his gut. She stumbled to the side, and felt the sticky blood soaking her shirt, the side of her jeans. 

“Oriana?” someone called over the comm, but she didn’t answer, charing the growing group of aliens. She had kids to save goddamn it. Stop poking holes in her plans. 

The lights came on. Lightening came down from the sky. Stark Tower lit up like a Christmas tree, and every alien just got a super boost. Damn it. 

She held her ground, her leg shaking, side burning. Her vision dimmed. Was she loosing blood? Well, okay, obviously she was. 

So instead, she hit at the closest alien, smacking it in the head with her spear, and then ducking at a follow up jab. Even wounded, she was faster. More agile. 

And then - boom. 

The Hulk smashed into a building, and then the ground, and with one fell swoop, he took out three aliens, sending them flying into something hard. And hopefully they wouldn’t get up. Oriana leaned on the staff. 

“Winter mad.” he huffed, and then knocked out another alien without a glance. She nodded. 

“Winter is mad,” she tried to laugh it off, but man, her side hurt. Her focus was slipping. The pain was hard to ignore, and some small part of her knew that if the pain was bad enough to cut through her concentration, it was serious. 

“Please, help.” she gasped, struggling over to the concrete. “I have kids...” she coughed, and felt a little dizzy. The spear was nice. It was a good spear. It kept her upright. 

“Don’t tell Cap, okay?” she turned with a pale face and a bad smirk towards the green troll behind her. He snorted, and with one hand pulled away another slab of concrete, widening the hole. 

“It’s okay! come out!” she called, but her voice fell short. God, this hurt. Bucky was _never_ going to let her forget this. 

“Alright, team, go time!” Tony called out over the comm, “it looks like we just need to keep them busy for an hour!” 

How the hell could he know that? How the hell could she keep this up for an hour? 

“Damn it, damn it.” she grumbled, climbing over the concrete, leaving a smeared bloodied hand print behind. If she survived, Bucky _was_ going to kill her. If Steve didn’t get to her first. Hulk stood back up, fighting off yellow aliens. She panted, and two women and an elderly man slowly emerged from the newly enlarged hole. 

The cloth over her mouth made it hard to breathe, or maybe it was the pain in her side. 

“Thank you...thank you...” they patted at her, but Oriana was finding it difficult to support herself. 

“The kids...over there..” she gasped, rolling onto her back, using her hand to limply gesture towards their hiding spot. God, it hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut. She needed to tell someone. 

“Steve...” she gulped out, collapsing, her lungs ached. They felt heavy, too heavy. “Bucky...”

She blinked as the world grew hazier, a mist slipping over her vision. Something roared. There was buzzing in her ear. There was...there was...

There was darkness. 


	20. Chapter 20

Blue curtains shielded her from the view of anyone else possibly in the room with her, and clear sunlight pierced through the veil, dappling the blanket draped over her. She kept her eyes closed, and attempted to even her breathing. Her legs were warm from the shaft of afternoon light across the bottom half of the hospital bed.

Her side ached, the pain not too sharp, but incessant and insistent. The pillow felt too soft and her body exhausted, it sunk deeply into mattress and she felt no desire to move it. Her fingers twitched, her body waking, but her mind too sluggish to pull itself from the haze wrapped around her thoughts.

“I know you’re awake.” Steve’s voice was sharp, but soft, a whisper. And she realized there was another in the room with her - Bucky maybe? She kept her eyes shut, and didn’t reply.

“Oh, she’s awake?” Bucky’s voice was raspier than usual.

“Yes.” Steve replied, and she heard them speak, quietly, too quietly, and she couldn’t hear their words.

“Stay in bed - Bucky! Will you stay in bed?!” Steve’s voice rose a crack, angrily. “Stop - no! Fine, get in the goddamn chair you stubborn bastard.”

“Save the lecture for her.” was Bucky’s cold reply. Oriana squeezed her eyes shut, and took in a breath that hurt more than it should. She didn’t want to talk, she didn’t want them lecturing her. She wanted to go back to sleep until she could breathe again. Oh, she knew they were furious. They had every right to be, she knew that.

But couldn’t they wait? The line of sunlight momentarily grew brighter as Bucky - in a wheelchair pushed by Steve Rogers no less - pushed the curtain aside. The backs of her eyelids grew red, then dimmed, and she let out a painful sigh. No one said anything. Then her bed dipped slightly as Steve sat down, and she heard the squeak of the wheel as Bucky pulled up next to her. She willed her body to remain still, to push down everything she was feeling.

She knew they were mad at her. A part of her was mad at her. What she did was stupid, reckless, desperate, and completely idiotic. By all purposes, she should have died. She had no right to make out alive. She deserved everything she felt. Even the fear. Especially the fear. But she wasn’t going to let them know it.

“We know you’re awake.” Steve told her once again. She grunted, then winced with the ache that flared.

“One stab wound to the diaphragm. Several bruised ribs. Multiple scrapes, contusions, and small cuts.” Steve rattled off, counting each offensive wound on his fingers. “You are alive, but you can thank Dr. Banner for that. Hulk picked you up and jumped you to Stark Tower.”

“Although how much longer you will be is up for debate.” Steve raised his eyebrows, and shot her a look.

“Don’t feel like debatin’ much,” Oriana mumbled softly, turning her head and peaking open one eye to see Bucky, glaring fiercely at her.

“ _I will never forgive you for scaring the crap out me, do you understand_?” Bucky spat in Russian, “ _Of course you don’t because you and this blonde haired giant are too damn stubborn for your own good and go around giving me a heart attack because_ I am the only one who doesn’t feel to act like a dramatic little shit!”

Steve blinked. Oriana blinked. She huffed a laugh, then winced, then giggled again. She reached over and shakily patted his hand. “It’s nice to know you care, Bucky.” She wheezed.

Wasn’t she supposed to heal fast or some shit? He only continued to glare at her, scowling deeply.

“Oriana, we’re serious. What you did was extremely dangerous. And against house rules.”

“Whatever, Steve. Did you really expect me to watch New York fall to pieces” she took a shaky, painful breath, “- damn this hurts - because you said to stay inside?”

Bucky grabbed her hand, his grip fierce, his rough fingers swallowing her palm, “No, but what if they needed you in here?”

“Don’t play that card, Bucky. You needed me out there too.” she looked over at Steve, “juicing them and watching them crash was my idea, you know.”

“Which you could perfectly as well informed us from inside Stark Tower.” Steve countered, leaning his elbows on his knees. Oriana looked away.

“You know, over the last few months,” deep breath, “you two keep telling me to not be afraid of myself. The serum didn’t make me into a bad guy. What if I got these” she lifted her hand up and let it flop on the bed, motioning to her body, “for a reason. I wanted to help, I thought I was.”

Bucky let go of her hand, and rolled an inch or two back, “You’re not a weapon, Oriana.”

She took his hand again, linking their fingers, her eyes forcing him to look at her, “But I _am_ a soldier, I can’t deny that, and it’s about time to do something useful around here besides amuse you two with my charming personality.”

Steve cracked a laugh, “oh, that’s what you call that?”

And even Bucky smirked at that.


	21. Chapter 21

“are you ever going to speak to me again?” she thumped her forehead against the closed door. Silence was her response. As it had been for a few days now. 

The empty corridor was barely lit, although the achingly bright autumn sunshine illuminated the kitchen not too far from where she stood. She heaved a sigh, shoulders slumping, fingers numb with exhaustion. Her side still stung, but she figured that was more mental than physical. That’s what happens when you haven’t slept for three days. Sleep, she wished she didn’t need it. But alas she did, and she also needed Bucky, who was still ignoring her. 

“I _know_ you are in there, goddamn it, and you cannot ignore me forever.” She bit out at the closed, quiet door she currently used to keep herself horizontal. “And I _will_ stand at this door until you decide to emerge.” She thumped her fist lazily against the wood. It made a hollow, aching sound in the room beyond. 

She stood a moment or two longer, wanting to leave and wanting to stay, but not having enough energy to go either way. Choices took energy. Movement took energy. Ugh. 

“You know,” his voice muffled by the door between them, she perked up, “you could just come in and go to sleep.” He popped open the door, and glared at her, deep purple under his eyes, hair unkempt, partially in a bun. 

“I knew you’d open up eventually.” she tried to give him a smile, but found all her energy reserves gone. He grunted, and she ducked under his arm into his grayly dim room, before grabbing the wrist of his metal arm, and tugging. 

“let’s take a nap, Bucky.” He kicked the door shut behind him, and obediently followed her, letting her flop onto the bed, landing on her stomach. He tentatively climbed on next to her, laying on his back. He shut his eyes, and felt the heat of her arm so close to his body. She had never been in his room before. Actually, no one had. He liked his privacy. 

“Your bed is comfy.” she murmured into the pillow. He didn’t respond. His stomach gripped itself tight, the muscles clenching, he looked at her prone form, watching her back rise and fall, her hair splay itself over her neck. He rolled onto his side, and with a flick of one metal finger, he removed her thick waves from her skin, pushing it towards the pillow. One eye peered at him, sleepily narrowed. 

They stared at each other for a while. 

“I’m not going to apologize for saving your ass.” she said matter of factly, still watching him with her eye. “Just like you didn’t need to apologize for rescuing my ass either.” 

He begrudgingly knew she had a point. It was against his orders for that mission; he should have shot her. Or really let her fall and not have caught her. For all he knew she was Hydra, a ruse, a ploy to sneak into the Avenger’s compound. Instead he had gone against orders because he _felt_ it was right. He needed to save her as he watched her take that leap, stood by her side throughout the investigation into her life, stood with her while she was questioned again and again for her loyalties. 

He grunted, realizing his hand still rested on her shoulder, he jerked it off, tucking it under his side, removing the vile thing for her sight. 

She scooted closer to him, nestling her head under his chin, filling his nose with the scent of her shampoo. Oriana grabbed his forearm, the flesh of her fingers alerting the sensors in arm, as she draped it over her. 

“I like all of you, Bucky. If you haven’t figured that out yet, you’re not as smart as they tell me.” her comment, although meant to be reassuring and sarcastic, fell flat with the edge of fatigue lacing her voice. “let’s go to sleep, okay? okay.” she buried herself further into his body, unholily close, until she was flush against him. It was the most his body had touched another in so long, too long. His metal arm lay coolly along her spine, and it fed him all the information he needed. Her body temperature, her white blood cell count, her hormonal level...which gave off some...unexpected readings. But she was calm, and secure, and his body didn’t stiffen but instead relaxed gracefully into hers. 

Her arm curled over his side, another tucked between them, and he let his chin rest atop her head. He knew this was bad, and it must be they only felt this comfortable because they were both too exhausted to know otherwise. That was it. It had nothing to do with anything but sleep. Yes, that had to be it. 

His heart wanted to beat louder, stronger, but he was lulled by her. Her breathing began evening out, and he found himself inadvertently matching it, his heart rate slowed to hers. Bucky let his eyes close to the darkness, and feel her lying asleep in both of his arms. A part of his brain screamed at him that there was something wrong in the way his heart felt at peace with her, but how could he care when he had not felt so safe in many a long, angry year. 

He placed a simple, soft kiss to the crown of her head, barely aware that he did so, listening to her murmur in her deepening slumber. He decided to worry about all this later, and just sleep, yes, just sleep for now. 

~~~

“Oriana? Bucky?”  Steve called as he padded around the apartment. Nothing, silence. They hadn’t left, he was sure of it. Fury would have been half way up his ass if they had. Livingroom and kitchen produced no one. Empty porch. 

Steve tapped a knuckle on Oriana’s door, waited half a beat, before sneaking it open. Her bed was neat, untouched. A flicker of worry shot up his throat, and Steve did another loop their space. He even checked the hall closet and under his own bed. There was only one place left un-searched, and the only thing keeping away was the guilt as disturbing Bucky’s space. 

Yet the chilly, disturbing silence drove him to it anyway. With Oriana’s injury, Bucky’s stony attitude, Steve’s nerves were frayed. Fury was demanding an answer from Oriana now, and Steve was dreading that conversation on all counts. He knew, just _knew,_ Bucky was going to throw a fit over Fury pushing for Oriana’s addition to the Avenger’s initiative. He was not looking forward to holding Bucky back as tried to murder their commanding officer. He was no longer positive of Oriana’s response, not that he wanted her out in the field. But...Steve realized they couldn’t keep her cooped up her for much longer. 

Steve hesitated briefly in front of Bucky’s door before rapping lightly. He waited a second or two, before turning the knob, then waiting some more for the inevitable growl of a response. When none came, Steve opened the door and peered in. 

At first, he didn’t quite believe what he was seeing. 

Bucky was almost completely wrapped around Oriana, her leg tucked between his two, both of his arms, snugly encasing her, her head tilted into the crook of his neck, nose touching his collar bone. The blankets were messily draped over their lower half, arms intermingled. Both soundly, happily asleep. He could hear their even, matched breathing. One of his hands was tangled in her hair, keeping her close to him, their bodies melted together. 

He closed the door as fast and quiet as he could, eyes trying to adjust. 

Steve couldn’t say he was surprised. He wasn’t, no. That picture of them walking the tower halls pushing to the forefront of her mind, their bodies walking in sync. No, he wasn’t surprised. 

But that wasn’t to say he wasn’t worried. 


	22. Chapter 22

 

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness that was no longer sleep, but instead the grainy gray light of Bucky’s bedroom. She felt entangled, and indeed she was, somewhere her body ended and Bucky’s began, but they were so close it was almost impossible to tell. His chest rose, pressing into hers and his breath ghosted across her face in long even exhales. 

Her body felt too comfortably warm, the heat of his spreading into her limbs, keeping her safe and content. She left heavy, light headed, mind foggy as she tried to swim away from the waters of sleep. Oriana knew they had been asleep for a very long time, she was too groggy and her body felt funny, like it hadn’t moved and now was just realizing how stiff it actually was. But, she didn’t want to move, she liked it here in his arms, as strong and muscled as they were, wrapped possessively around her, her knee tucked between his legs. 

It was safe here, and there were no aliens and weird green people trying to kill her, and it was quiet and peaceful, only the smell of Bucky in her nose. 

“You’re awake,” he murmured into her hair, his breath making strands move across her face. She harshly blew them away, which got her nowhere. 

“Mhmm,” she brushed his exposed skin with her nose, enjoying the feel of his skin. Steve and Bucky were the only ones who touched her. It was an unspoken rule, she just...it was hard to deal with others. Hydra was months gone into the past, but sometimes she still felt them, crawling under her skin. She accepted what had happened, but...trauma was hard to leave behind. All of it was hard to leave behind no matter how much she wanted to bury it and move forward, it always managed to rise up again. 

The nightmares were still there, not as much, but there was always that flicker of anxiety before she fell asleep. Would she wake up screaming again? 

Would it matter if she did? More than likely Bucky would wander into her room, occasionally Steve on his heals, drag her into the living room and they would sit in silence. Frequently, this lead to the two of them curled on the couch, asleep by dawn. Or the times she couldn’t sleep, Bucky would be there, for a walk around the tower or a movie. It was a ritual at first, but...when did it change? When was falling asleep on his shoulder or back against his knee more than that? When did seeing him prone on the ground cause such rage she managed to take out all those aliens? 

When did falling asleep in his arms seem like the most natural thing in the world?

Oh, Oriana, you stupid girl, you fell for the dumb assassin and you didn’t even realize it, did you? 

His hand came up and gently smoothed down her hair, pushing it away from her face. He seemed half a sleep still, body moving languorously, softly, limbs still waking up. 

“Bucky,” she said into his chest again, pressing her fingers into his skin, feeling the muscles taunt beneath. Her lips tingled. 

She could feel him shift around, shift his body, making room, but still keeping her close. She let her head flop away from him, hair tangle in his hand. She wondered...did he feel anything? Would it be awkward if she kissed him? It would be awkward. Totally awkward. 

He didn’t respond to her, but instead, moved her so she lay on his arm, eye level with him, his metal arm draped over her hip, and she felt everything. From the way his arm felt beneath her head, the metal of his arm and how it weighed on her hip bone, the way his lips looked, how stormy his eyes looked. 

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” 

“You’re breathing changed,” he explained softly, eyelids lowered, but she could feel it as he looked at her. 

“You woke up...because my breathing changed...?” 

He grunted his affirmative. She had no response to that, but she wanted to move closer, move back into his space, not that she was necessarily out of it. She wanted to press her lips to the hollow of his throat and feel the pulse there. 

“Oriana?” 

“Yeah?”

“Fury wants you to be an Avenger.” 

She paused. She wasn’t surprising. It was more surprising that Bucky still felt the need to have his arms around her. That was a surprise. Fury? She saw that coming the minute she stepped out of the Tower. 

“I know.” She felt his body tense unnaturally, the veins of his arms throbbing as he made a fist behind her head. She put an hand over his heart, feeling the strength that lingered there, even as he damned well lounged on his own damned bed. Ugh. Why. 

“He can fuck off.” 

“Bucky...” 

“No. You made a split second decision, that doesn’t mean you’re ready for the field. God damn, why can’t he leave you alone? Not every super powered human needs to go out and fight -”

“Bucky.” 

“- he wants his own little tin soldiers. You shouldn’t feel like you have to say yes to him, Oriana. You don’t need to prove yourself as a soldier if you don’t want to be one. Tony will back us -”

“Buckyyy,”

“-Fury can shove his egotistical Avengers iniative up his ass for all I care. You’re still suffering from PTSD, you need time to heal, not be thrown into another war again, one you’re not prepared for -”

“Bucky!” Oriana snapped, and then leaned in fast as she could, and caught his lips with her own. She meant for it to be a quick peck, but once she committed, she committed, and she pressed in further, and so did he, and it was insane the heat that flared everywhere, all over, with everything centered on her lips and how he kissed her back, and she realized too late she may have thought she was in control but Bucky took over and oh god oh god ohhhh....god it felt good, really really really good. 

His hand cradled her neck, and her face leaned towards his, her lips opening to let his tongue in, and she wanted more, but didn’t want to stop kissing him either, letting her lips tug on his, let his tongue explore her own, and she felt too hot, like coals were underneath her skin, but his lips were soft and demanding and gentle with her all the same, teasing her out, beckoning her to come to him, and she came, she followed. 

When he finally pulled back, she expected embarrassment, but instead he smirked at her. 

“That’s one way to shut a guy up.” 

She could nod, but only barely, his hand hand’t moved from the nape of her neck, and she knew she was blushing, and one metal finger lazily drew a circle on the exposed skin of her hip, touching her like it was normal, natural, and she wanted to feel angry that he felt that he could just touch her like that, but to be perfectly honest with herself, it felt really nice and she had forgotten how nice it could be to be touched. 

She leaned in, hesitated, then let her lips drift to his again, and he let her lead him now. She let her tongue slide over his bottom lip, then the top, before sneaking inside, finding the warmth he hid there, and then gently, ever so gently nipped at his bottom lip, feeling the scruff against her chin. He choked back a groan, and she let her hands drift up his chest, over his shoulders as she teased his mouth as he did hers. Her hands were clasped behind his neck when she pulled away. 

She gulped away her panting breath, the simmering heat still on her lips. 

“I did have a point.” she grumbled, but only eliciting another smirk from him. 

“And what was it?” 

Her brows lowered over her eyes, eyes narrowing. “I can’t remember, I got distracted.” 

“I can distract you again until you remember.” 

“I don’t believe that’s how it works.” she laughed, his lips coming to her throat. Her legs shook with anticipation, with euphoria. How could she feel like this? She breathed out heavily, hers hands delving into his hair and she brought his face to hers. She wanted more, there wasn’t enough. 

“Well, I suppose, we could try it out, huh?” she asked against his lips. He rolled her over, so she straddled him, and his eyes glimmered with...mirth?  

He wasted no time bringing their lips together again, her body arched over his, strong and safe, molding to hers effortlessly. She kissed him with all she had, the good and the bad, feeling every part of him she could feel with her hands, tracing his jaw with her fingers and lips, he kissed every scar he could find while clothed, their hands sometimes entwining, other times just touching, finding the sensitive spots, finally breaking the last wall between them. 


	23. Chapter 23

“I want to be an Avenger, Bucky.” she told him, her head on his shoulder, arm flung over his bare chest. He pulled her in slightly, but his face turned away from her. 

“Here me out, please.” she sighed, rolling onto her stomach and resting on her forearms, looking towards him, waiting for him to respond. It took a moment, but when his eyes met hers, she could tell he was less than happy. 

“I don’t want to be a soldier, but hey I am what I am. It is what it is and all that jazz. If I can do something, shouldn’t I?” he narrowed his eyes at her, but remained coldly silent. “But...that doesn’t necessarily mean I need to be up front and center, you know? As much as you need the offense, bang bang shoot’em up, what about defense? What about someone who helps get civilians to safety, or covers back up.” 

His arms lost some of their stiffness. “So I’ll be out there with you guys, but behind your lines. You don’t have a medic or anything, not that I’m a doctor or whatnot, but I can fight, but I can do something.” She popped his shoulder with her nose. 

“I know you don’t want me to. I can’t stay cooped up here forever, watch you leave and come back, leave and come back. It’s killing me just waiting around, doing nothing. I wish I could back and be normal, but I’m not really that person anymore. It’s more than just being able to run fast and hit people really hard. My life changed, my body changed, and I either can run from that or face it head on.” 

He rolled over onto his side, shifting her. He brought his forehead to hers, and closed his eyes. They were silent for a heartbeat, both of them feeling the air shift around their warm bodies.“When we are in the field, you will _always_ listen to orders. No going off on your own, understand?”

She squealed, and threw her arms around him. “I’m glad your own board.” 

He grunted unhappily. “You were going to do it, with or without me.”

She hummed, running a hand up his metal arm. “true, but it made it easier if you did.”His breath puffed into her hair as his arms slowly encircled hers. He held on tight, and she snuggled closer, the heavy weight of his metal arm leaned into her back, her arms clasping around his back. She felt the scarred shoulder and chest press smoothly onto her skin, and she felt herself falling, drifting towards him. 

He knew her better than anyone. He knew her pain, her nightmares, her fears. He knew her desire to read and run and sit for long quiet hours in the sunshine. She knew his nightmares, his love of popcorn and anything salty, preferred to sweet. But they knew what it was like to be at the hands of Hydra, and survive. 

“This changes things.” he murmured, stroking her hair. She pulled away to look at him, her smile bright and enthusiastic. 

“Right? I’ll be out there with you, and I really liked the spear, it’s a great defense weapon. I’ll be an Avenger, I’ll be the good guy. And I’ll have your back, although I don’t know how I feel about guns. Do I have to use one? Let’s go with the spear, I mean you did see that picture right? The one with the sort of shield and the alien spear? That was cool -”

Bucky leaned down and pressed a kiss to her neck. She stopped speaking to let him continue his kisses along her neck and jaw. She let out a long breath, and focused her attention on the heat pooling her stomach and his hot lips on her neck. 

“I meant,” he nipped at her jaw and she shuddered, “between us.” 

“What about us?” 

“You don’t think this is different.” he pulled her hair gently, titling her face towards his where he hovered his lips above hers. 

“No.” she whispered, her eyes closed. 

“No?” he took her lips in his, teasing her. 

“Nhhmmm.” she pecked his lips, “we fell asleep on the couch together, we trained together. You came to the library with me, I went with you to Stark. Hey, we built a potato launcher together. What’s changing? You gonna sleep with me and then suddenly not talk to me anymore?” 

His glare and barely hidden growl was enough of an answer. She chuckled and grabbed his face. “Let’s be honest. I think we both felt something long before this.” She firmly pressed her lips to his again. She made an exaggerated ‘mwah!’ and pulled away. 

“ _Not much has changed.”_

He laughed, “except you know Russian now apparently.” 

Pink dusted her cheeks, “ _Natasha taught me, I wanted to talk to you.”_

Bucky kissed her again, and again, and again. “ _You are too full of surprises, my sparrow.”_

 


	24. Chapter 24

Steve could hear their voices, muffled and distorted through the walls. He puttered around the kitchen, gently and silently eating breakfast. He strained to catch their words, the occassional note of laughter catching him off guard. 

What were they doing? 

He didn’t consider himself nosy, but he had watched slowly circle each other for weeks now. Fury was on his back her for the last month, and the whole New York incident had the population chanting for her and answers from the Avengers. Pictures of her ran through the internet and media, talk show hosts glorifying her. Their favorites seemed to be his surprising clear shot of her, standing over Bucky, car door in one hand and alien spear in the other. Real Amazonian. The public loved it. 

So did Fury, unfortunately. 

Steve had mentioned it to her once or twice, trying to feel her out on it. But she clammed up whenever he tried to broach the subject, and he was at a loss. He knew she hadn’t been sleeping. And she was annoyed that Bucky was giving her the cold shoulder. And Steve wasn’t sure how long he and Tony could hold off the SHIELD director. 

Fury and Hill were adamant about her joining the team. She had the super soldier abilities, and she could fight. It was evident from the bits and pieces of footage that emerged from the latest alien excursion. Steve had no doubt in her abilities, and New York proved she was capable. Efficient. Battle ready even. 

But...he wasn’t sure he wanted her out there with them. She wasn’t a soldier, she was just Oriana. Who cooked and danced and read and moodily hermitted in her room sometimes. 

Fury felt she had an obligation. Steve didn’t see it that way. In fact, and Tony agreed, they were more obliged to her than anything and thus respecting her wishes. No matter what her answer was. Steve sure as hell wasn't forcing her into anything she didn't want. He wasn’t positive on Bucky’s thoughts on the matter, but he knew he must feel similarly. 

The door opened, and Oriana spilled out, hair messily caught in a bun, shorts askew. She dramatically raised her arms above her head and yawned. Bucky was tugging on a loose shirt, and Steve suddenly felt his face grow hot. What had they been doing? Did he just get caught eaves dropping? 

“G’morning!” she chirped, face relaxed. It betrayed nothing. Bucky smirked, his eyes following Oriana as she prowled around the room, hungry. When they met with Steve’s they held nothing but a sunken mirth and a dare for him to say something. 

“Sleep well?” Steve asked nonchalantly. 

“Mhmm,” Oriana responded as she chewed a bit of apple. “Very much so.” 

“You were asleep for almost twenty-four hours.” Steve continued, eyes on Bucky who sat across from him at the island. 

“That long, huh.” she pulled out some bread. She raised the bag towards Bucky who nodded. 

Oriana hummed to herself as she busied making breakfast, completely oblivious to the staring contest going on behind her. Bucky flicked his eyes between Oriana and Steve. 

“No nightmares?” Steve asked, finishing his apple. 

“No,” she replied after a short pause, “none at all.” She glanced over her shoulder at Bucky, who shrugged and shook his head. 

Steve leaned forward on his forearms, looked straight at Bucky, and “huh. I wonder if that has to do with the new sleeping arrangements.” 

Oriana felt her face glow bright red, and when she looked over, there was a, very soft, barely even noticeable, tinge of pink across Bucky’s cheekbones. When she sat down next to him, she slid over his plate of toast with honey. His elbow brushed against her arm, and she felt heat shoot through her veins.  

“it’s okay, Steve. We’ll get you a teddy bear and you can name it Bucky. That way you can cuddle with a Bucky too.” 

Bucky barked out a laugh, and Steve shook his head. “Well played,” he chuckled and pointed his spoon at her, “Well played.” 

They ate in companionable silence. Just the clink of utensils and the soft chewing of food, the dreary day outside drifting behind them. They sipped their tea and coffees respectively, Oriana’s knee touched Bucky’s. It was normal. 

“So what’s on the agenda, now that you two are talking again?” Steve asked as he stood up. His blonde hair was perfect, and face clean shaven. 

Oriana shrugged, “shower first. Maybe a run? a run sounds nice. I was thinking of getting a new book or two from the library. Join the Avengers. You know, the usual.” 

There was a heart beat of silence. Then another. And another. When Oriana looked up, Steve was staring at them both. Closed lipped. 

“You’re going to do what?” 

“Forget your hearing aid, buddy?” Bucky asked, “she’s joining the Avengers.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, “Meet Sparrow.”

 


	25. Chapter 25

Her stiff fingers smoothed down her black pencil skirt one last time, before she checked in reflection in the clear glass window. Her hair was pulled into a high, prim pony tail, her blouse a crisp clean cream tucked into her skirt. Her heels pointed and high; business suited. 

The room they left her in was quiet, the soft whirl of the air conditioning ghosted overhead. There was a few chairs, a coffee table. They were gathering in the room next door. She briefly glanced upwards, were there cameras? Probably. Were they watching her? Oh definitely. She paced again, her heels sinking into the carpeting. 

“Oriana?” Maria Hill appeared suddenly, black suit and heels, hair piled into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. Her face was blank. Oriana took a moment, a quick breath, and followed Maria’s straight back. 

She entered the room with her chin up, her eyes dancing away from Steve’s and Tony’s. Steve was still apprehensive about her joining, Tony was all for it. Announced they needed a new get away driver since he stopped trusting in Clint’s piloting. He got a roll in the face for that one. They were all dressed in suits, and she thought it was rather comical, since it wasn’t suits that helped them save the world. 

Fury sat in the center. Steve to his right, Tony to his left. Maria Hill and Natasha Romanov as well. It felt more like a tribunal than anything else; them staring at her. 

“Good afternoon, Oriana.” Maria Hill began, she glanced at Fury. 

“So you finally decided to join the Avengers.” Fury looked hard at her, his one eye dark and angry. 

“Took you long enough,” Tony muttered. 

“Stark...” Fury warned, before directing his attention back at Oriana. She tried not move, she willed every cell to stay in place. There was a heartbeat of silence. 

“What spurned this decision?” Natasha leaned forwarded, a smirk ghosting across her lips, her face calm compared to Steve’s and Fury’s. 

“What do you think?” she blurted out, “What happened a few weeks ago. With the aliens. I...helped.” Oriana took a deep breath, “I realized I wanted to help, I could help, I can _help.”_ She looked at Fury, “but I’ll only join if it’s on my condition.” 

Fury chuckled, “What makes you think I’m letting you join?” 

Oriana glanced to Steve, who narrowed his eyes in warning. 

“Because...I’m not a secret anymore.” Oriana cleared her throat, “unfortunately for you, I was photographed. Multiple times during the New York crisis. And the media, as much as the rest of the world, want to know who I am. Now, these leaves you with options, of course, but the easiest option that works out in everyone’s favor is letting me join. You can continue to dodge the questions I know you’ve been receiving, make an excuse. You _could say,_ ” she looked directly at Fury, “you don’t know who I am, and then dodge either further questions about _why_ you don’t know me, the speculation won’t be good, because why did an unknown super soldier (whom the Hulk liked) come into the fray? Why aren’t you searching for this person? That’s one option. You could let me in, like you know you want, and be an Avenger. One more Avenger, one more super soldier.” 

Fury leaned back, and a smile, an almost smile, formed on his lips. “Seem like you have it all thought out.” 

Oriana shrugged. “No, but my option - becoming an Avenger - works best for both parties. It’s what you wanted originally.” 

Steve sighed, “Her plan works. Having a defender so to speak, to help with civilians, would be better for all of us. She’s damage control.” he looked over at Fury, “we don‘t need more soldiers.” 

He gave her a quick nod. And she smiled. A fluttering in her chest released. Her nervousness dissipated as she saw the contented softness in Steve’s eyes, Natasha’s look of pride. 

“I want to be an Avenger.” Oriana affirmed once again, the strength, the stillness rising further, “It’s time for me...” she gathered every ounce of conviction, of motivation and brought into her voice, “it’s time for me to start helping. I’m a super soldier, and well...” she looked straight at Steve, saw the pride in his eyes, and she smiled, “it’s time I started acting like one.” 

 


	26. Chapter 26

Oriana dashed into the apartment, vibrating with excitement, heels clicking against the wood floor. She ran into the kitchen, looking around, eyes wide and brilliant. 

“Bucky!” she called, throwing off her blazer, tugging at the collar of her shirt. Her hair swishing against her neck, “Bucky!” her voice was high, breathless. 

He came around the corner, in black jeans and a red henley shirt, hair pulled messily into a bun. Her smile grew even more. He barely had time to raise an eyebrow before she threw herself into his arms, pressing her lips onto his, she felt the clack of their teeth from the intensity. Oriana pulled her face away, her hands grasped his shoulders, her skirt riding up her hips as she wrapped her legs around his hips. 

“I’m an Avenger!” she sang loudly, pressing her lips against his once more, but softly. She felt him smile against her, stubble rubbing against her chin. 

His metal arm lifted her, bringing in her closer to his body. She pulled away, leaning her forehead against his, and one of his hands slid up her thigh, sliding over the silk tights. 

“Bucky, I’m an Avenger!” she whispered excitedly. 

“Of course, Sparrow.” he kissed her again, “now the fun part begins.” 

She bit her lip, her eyes dipping. Something warm bloomed in her stomach, where his hand gripped her thigh. “Oh, yeah?” she pecked his lips quickly, “what’s that?” 

Abruptly, Bucky dropped her. He looked down at her sprawled form on the ground, gazing confused up at him, skirt twisted, a flush across her face. 

“Avengers training.” 

His smirk grew as she threw her shoe at him.


	27. Chapter 27

 

Oriana’s fist collided with the canvas, again and again, her knuckles bruised. The chain clinked softly with each powerful hit. Her shoulders ached, so did her arms. Sweat dribbled down her back, stained her shorts, her shirt. Hair was plastered to her face and neck, sticky and hot. 

With another grunt, her fist slammed into the sandbag, and with groan the bag burst, sand spilling out onto the floor around her feet. She panted, but didn’t move, her lungs grabbing air as fast as they could. 

“Usually you move  _ out  _ of the way.” Steve chuckled, stepping into the room from the lockers beyond. She grunted, and rolled her shoulder, dispelling the stiffness she found lingering along her back and neck. The muscles were burning. He squinted at her, “How long have you been in here?” 

She shrugged, stepping gingerly away from the sandbag. It was the second bag she had gone through that day, and Stark was beginning to gripe about how fast she went through them, and threatened to put in bits of steel to make them harder for her to break. 

“You going to talk to me or just stand there and brood.” Steve dropped his gym bag to the floor, his jeans tight along his hips and his shirt tugged at his shoulders. 

“I don’t know. You ever going to wear a shirt that actually fits?” she raised an eyebrow at him, walking over to the broom. 

He chuckled, and took the broom from her hands with a slight smile. “I’ll sweep, you talk.” 

She hesitated, watching him begin sweep the sand into one big pile with long strokes. She hated having to tell Jarvis she broke another punching bag. Again.  _ Today.  _

“I saw my mother the other day.” she murmured. And by the other day she meant exactly eight days ago, walking past the Avenger’s building. She had returned from one of Widow’s spy games (which she was surprisingly adept at, like scavenger hunts on crack, all while not being seen). 

Her mother. Her mom, best friend, woman she looked like. 

Steve hummed his encouraging reply. Oriana shoved a hand into her hair, the tape around her knuckles catching strands and yanking. “She was walking on the street, that’s all. Just walking along, shopping bag in her hand. She let her hair go gray.” Oriana shrugged, and felt something clog her throat. “My mom. I haven’t seen my mom in...in, I don’t know how long. She was  _ right there _ , Steve.” 

And when she looked up, Steve was in front of her, broom still in his hand, and his blue eyes were sad. She glanced up at him, then away, then down at their feet. 

“Oriana...”

“I haven’t forgotten about them, you know. I still - still think about them all the time. I look them up on the internet, and...I really miss them, but I don’t think they would understand. But I,” she sucked in a breath, “I  _ really  _ miss them. Sometimes I miss them so much it burns and I think about them and I want to reach out to them, but I can’t. I don’t know if I ever will. Or can.” 

Steve nodded, her arms wrapped around her body. “Why do you think you shouldn’t?” She paced away, chin close to her chest, the sweat drying along her skin. She gulped, paced around some more. 

“Because I’m not their Oriana anymore. I’m a someone...something different.” One hand dropped away from her side and she stared at it, maybe expecting to see it sprout claws or turn red. 

“I can crush a ten pound weight in my hand like a glass ball and run a mile in a minute if I had to.” She closed her fist, “I’m a weapon and I’m dangerous.” 

“Oriana...” Steve sighed, 

“No, Steve. I  _ know  _ what I am, I’m not the same woman I was, and I won’t ever be the woman they knew again. How can I look at them...when, when I’m not -” she stiffened, held her breath for a moment, “I’ve been tainted, Steve.” 

The next thing Oriana knew two massive arms wrapped around, and the smell of Irish Spring burst into her nose. “You’re not a monster, Oriana. Don’t think that.” 

Her only response was breathing in the smell of his laundered shirt and soap. “On our last mission?” she whispered, “I kicked a man so hard he flew into a tree and snapped his leg. I didn’t even hesitate, just kicked him. You really want to tell me I’m not a monster?” 

“Yes.” Steve pulled back, and held her at arm’s length, “I know that. The whole team knows what you did.” 

“They do?” She asked, eyebrows low over her face. She looked down at the floor. 

“Yes. You were protecting Barton because he got himself hurt,  _ again _ . Would a monster protect their teammates?” 

“But...I didn’t have to be so harsh about it.” 

“Then that HYDRA agent would have killed you. And Barton too. You did what was necessary, brutal, but necessary. The agent didn’t die.” 

She shrugged and leaned her head into his chest. “But I will always second guess myself around...around people not like us.” 

“Civilians?” 

She nodded. 

“Oriana...soldiers go through this everyday.” he smoothed back her hair, “You can’t say you’ll pull away from everything because it’s hard, because it’s difficult. You’re family...they would want to know you’re alive, you can’t hide from them because you’ve changed. I’m sure they have too. It’s going to be difficult, but you can’t run from it because it will be. You just need to learn, and heal. You’ve only been with us a few months...but don’t ever think that about yourself. You’re not a monster, they wanted you to be one, and by thinking that, you’ve let them win over a part of yourself.”

“ _ I  _ know you are stronger than that, but I also know you need to give yourself time, Oriana. You need to find yourself again. It took me a long time to discover who I was after I woke up from the ice. A few months isn’t going to erase what happened.” 

“Does Bucky know?” Steve finally asked, after they stood quietly. He let her soak it in. He knew she wanted to be better, wanted to be stronger, and felt frustrated and torn. 

“That I saw my mom?”

“Yes.”

“I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone.” 

Steve nodded, and when she pulled away again, gave him a wry smile. “You know, Captain, did you write that down or come up with it on the spot?” 

“Very funny.” He gave her a soft tap on her shoulder. “I’m serious, Oriana. Are you still seeing that therapist?”

Oriana nodded. 

“Maybe talk to her about some of these thoughts?” 

“I will.” She sighed, shoulder sagging, all the anger and sadness resting on her face. “Some days are better than others. I don’t always feel like this, and I hadn’t for a while, when I was doing things, when...I was training and with Bucky and the fight in New York and the missions...it wasn’t until I saw my mom.” 

He nodded again, and shoved his hands in his pockets, “It’s going to be hard. Bucky still feels that way sometimes.” 

Oriana sighed, “I know, I try to make him not feel that way, but he does. I just think, well, that he has more of a reason to feel that way.” 

Steve’s eyebrow rose, “Don’t compare like that. Just don’t. What you  _ feel  _ and what you’re going through is just as valid, Oriana. If I have to tell you that every day for the next three years, I will.” Steve nudged her shoulder and she rolled her eyes at him. Both knowing full well that he would. And probably will now just to prove a Grade A Rogers Point. 

“It takes a long time...I’d go talk to Bucky. He knows something’s up anyway. And he’s wants you to talk to him.” Steve motioned towards the pile of sand and the broken bag, “He’s been worried, he just won’t say anything.” 

Oriana also looked down at the pile of sand and hid her wince. Yeah, she needed to talk to Bucky about this. She just didn’t know how. 

 

Oriana toweled off her hair; the wet strands stuck to her neck and face, her skin feeling flushed and clean. Another soft towel was wrapped around her body, tucked under her arms. There was a light knight on the door. 

“Hmm...one moment,” she answered, scrubbing her hair vigorously to dry it off. Steam flushed the room, the air around her was damp and hot, the mirror was fogged up, and rivulets of water ran down the glass shower door. It was that post-shower silence. 

The door opened anyway, and bent over, Oriana glanced up to see Bucky sneak in. Her face went a bright pink. 

“What are you doing?” She choked, looking up at him through her damp hair. His red henley was unbottoned, his face the usual stoic mask as he took in her.  

And slowly, a faint red tinge crept across his cheeks, his hand lingered on the door knob. 

She stood straight, and within a moment his hands came up, brushed the hair away from her face, pushing it away from her neck, and then with no warning, leaned down to kiss her, gently, just a firm press of his lips to hers. 

“Steve told me.” He murmured. Her eyebrows came down over her eyes, face pinching. 

“That rat.” She grumbled, eyes dark and narrowed, trying - and failing - to ignore the warm, liquid sensation that filled her body. 

“Only that you saw your mother, why didn’t you tell me?” He still held her head between his hands. She pushed against his immobile shoulders, before just closing her eyes and letting her hands lay on his arms. He had caught her off guard. 

“I don’t know...I didn’t know how to deal with it myself.” She replied, “but Steve told you? God that  _ ass _ , that wasn’t for him to tell. I  _ told  _ him not to say anything.” 

“I...may have pressured him into it.” 

“What?” She growled, trying to jerk away from him again but he held on. 

“I coerced him into telling me. I saw you talking in the gym earlier, and he hinted that I should talk to you.” He kissed her again, tilting her face into his, letting his tongue drift across her lips. He pulled away, her lips pink. “So...I forced him to tell me what was doing.” 

Her nostrils flared in anger, but she bit her lip, looking up at Bucky. There was something warm in his eyes, eyes that were keenly focused on her and only her.  

“You know, you have me at a bit of a disadvantage.” She murmured, the anger she wanted to feel displaced by the way her lips tingled with his kiss and the languorous humidity of the bathroom.  

“I know...” He replied, smirking, before kissing her again, still keeping it gentle and soft. “That may have been the idea.” 

“I hate you sometimes,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him closer to her, she did feel better. He always did that though, always made her feel safe and human. She wasn’t a monster, never with Bucky. 

“You wish.” He laughed, kissing her with a smile. “Now, you going to talk to me or do I need to beat it out of you?” 

She kissed him, “or you could just kiss it out of me,”

He raised an eyebrow, and swooped her into his arms. She yelped at the suddenness, her arms squeezing his neck. “What are you doing?” 

He made no reply, but opened up the door and strode into the hallway.


End file.
